The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows (The Golden Girls Version)
by Daryl Wor
Summary: As our oddly picked hosts to this radio drama lose momentum, a strange listener changes channels and suddenly we're back at The Cheesecake Table with The Girls. Sophia Petrillo makes the usual ribald observations before telling a tale of her journey by train into Maine to see a friend of hers who always has dramatic gossip. Kindly Read, Enjoy and Review. Please join the cause! :)
1. Episode 3: The Strega of Brooklyn

_Hello fellow Golden Girls Fans. I know this is a little weird but I've been working on this Multi-Fandom for over two years. It's a lot of fun but I've had little response from people so I'm posting this chapter here to see if you'd like to come along for the ride._

_**From what I've seen online, Golden Girls fans are much more vocal and appreciative of a good story than most, so if you'd like to join in my crusade to make Collinsport a fun, beautiful, yet still spooky place, I heartily welcome you to The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows.**_

_**Get some cheesecake, a fresh pot of coffee, enjoy and please review as much as you want! (The first 2 episodes are in the Dark Shadows section.)**_

_The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Summary: Condensed Re-write of "Dark Shadows", adding new characters along the way to help solve problems and lift curses. (Originally posted here 14 February 2012.) Begins post Maggie Evans kidnapping, and Willie Loomis going to Wyndcliff. A familiar Butler applies for work at The Old House and knows more than he will let on. (podcast available .com) (Let me know if you want to the info to which episodes apply to the different fandoms so if you want those specific bits I can tell you. I know it's gotten rather wildly Multi-fandom. Just leave a comment asking for which you'd like.) And yes! We made it! You may now hear this story on iTunes!_

Summary:

In this wrap up of the Adam story line and dream curse, Mrs. Johnson explains to her out of town friend, what all has been going on. Since Dark Shadows has so much reincarnation hinted at, it's likely possible Mrs. Johnson's old pet came back as the familiar fellow here.

I know the time line is a bit off but the alpha version was done with a lack of tools and from memory only, so I was surprised I got it all this accurate. In my version Adam doesn't come into contact with Sam Evans or Willie Loomis. He does still lock up Carolyn, previously, in the root cellar, which comes into importance later on. How Victoria and Peter end up where they do is up for guess work. Considering Victoria can obviously do The Time Warp perhaps that's how. Still, the reason behind her getting a phone call from 1960's Collinwood to a decades later Twin Peaks is up to you. I kept them present day with intentions to clear up the the obvious puzzle of her relationship to Elizabeth.

Please review. I'd love to hear/read some laughter. Or just thanks would be spiffy, too. (Just in case you're reading from a device.)

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows: Episode Three:The Strega of Brooklyn

[Pit of Ultimate Darkness Theme]

MILLIGAN: Good evening and I must assure you this IS THEE Pit of Ultimate Darkness. If you remember I once had to admit that it was the Pit of PENULTIMATE Darkness but that pit that was slightly darker recently changed ownership and became Jack's Fry House so we are back in the ULTIMATE play! We are evil, evil, EVIL! I am your host, Sir Simon Milligan. To assist me is MANSERVANT HECUBUS!

HECUBUS: (rises under Milligan's hand) Here I am!

AUDIENCE: (applause) YAY! Hecubus!

MILLIGAN: AH! (gasps and regains composure) Manservant Hecubus, ladies and gentleman.

HECUBUS: I am ready to serve you master. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Satan!

MILLIGAN: (under his breath) Yes, we knew that already, Hecubus.

HECUBUS: Are we ready to return to Collinsport, Master?

MILLIGAN: Well, duh! Is it not the home of total and uncomplicated evil?

HECUBUS: Uncomplicated? It's the most complicated domicile I think has ever graced the airwaves.

MILLIGAN: This is true. And now we must introduce you to the state of Collinsport in the entirety that we know of. Victoria Winters, who once introduced the program, has returned from 1795 and is learning to use a modern lavatory once again. Roger has received a late night telephone call from a mysterious Tarot reader, and there are guests at the Old House that continue to gulp down cups of coffee in attempts to relieve themselves of the dreadful insomnia that plagues them world without end. Meanwhile at Wyndcliff, Willie Loomis is completely absorbed in his new 666 piece jigsaw puzzle of a cloud.

WILLIE: YES! YES! YES! I have completed it! I rule the Sanatorium.

MILLIGAN: Willie, shhh! I wish to have one more blessed moment with my lovely portrait of… wait… where did it go?

HECUBUS: Hee hee hee!

MILLIGAN: What? Again? What do you have against me anyway? Where is that painting of Angelique I've been worshipping with such villainous zest?

HECUBUS: Oh… Mr. Roger Collins seemed to want it, Master. I didn't have much choice in the matter.

MILLIGAN: Hecubus! That was an antique!

HECUBUS: No, Master, it was actually purchased on the roadside—

MILLIGAN: Hush, Hecubus!

HECUBUS: Next to a barn with a rambunctious collection of livestock… one of which was a goat who was preparing to nibble on the corner of the frame.

MILLIGAN: HA! And he didn't get it, did he? I did! (miffed) Though now it's gone…

HECUBUS: Well, you can simply visualize her amidst your shrine, Master. You've still got all the candles glowing bright. I'm sure her spirit is there.

MILLIGAN: BAH! Well, I won't compel anyone with the Sleep-of-Ages tonight! I've certainly lost the mood!

HECUBUS: Yes, Master…

MILLIGAN: In any case, my portrait will have less bearing on the looks of our stunningly evil Angelique, who seemed to find a way to allure Roger Collins under the guise of short, quirky swirls of black hair instead of blonde. She also altered her name to Cassandra Blair and by this time is Mrs. Roger Collins anyway. My, that gorgeous dame does get around.

HECUBUS: She still hasn't got around to you, Master.

MILLIGAN: (miffed) Don't remind me… At any rate, it turns out that she was a student of the be'monocle'd man of study, Professor T. Eliot Stokes. He happens to be a miraculous descendant of the Ben Stokes mentioned in episode two of our pit here.

HECUBUS: Ah, yes… he's not feeling so good about being the go between of our beloved witch to that homestead, and may be seen helping our residents to make up for the trouble of his wayward student.

MILLIGAN: And now! To ignite our portal back into this beguiled and beguiling town… we shall entrance our listeners with an essence of hypnotic music…

[Record skips and then "The Stripper" begins.]

MILLIGAN: (aghast) wha- what's going on? Those aren't my theta waves! Hecubus! What have you done?

HECUBUS: (monotone) I'm under the influence of a higher master, Master. And now I will remove my… I mean… I mean, I will alter the sounds you hear.

[Bubbling liquid noises and high pitched, semi-evil laughter, a collection of gremlins and demons.]

MILLIGAN: Ladies and Gentlemen! The Dark Lord is blessing us!

HECUBUS: No, master. He's merely… tuned in!

MILLIGAN: HAIL-

[click, click]

GRIZZLY VOICE: Oops! Dropped my remote! Now I have to switch it back by hand… (fumbling, various small objects falling over)

[click, click]

MILLIGAN: You must always embrace the hellfire, hellfire, HELLFIRE!

GRIZZLY VOICE: Terrific! Great stuff! At last, a show for ME! A Show that speaks to ME! (shuffle) Oh! Golden Girls…

[click, click]

SOPHIA: Blanche… you're loose!

[ribald laughter from audience]

ROSE: You know I've been loose myself at times.

SOPHIA: Yeah… in your HEAD!

[more live studio laughter]

DOROTHY: Ma! We've gone through half of the blueberry, pumpkin, chocolate, raspberry, rhubarb cheesecake. Were you going to get to your story or NOT?

SOPHIA: Don't rush me! I was waiting for my medication to kick in.

[light laughter from audience]

BLANCHE: Well, I tell you, Sophia, I need a good friendship story. I've been without a date for two whole days!

SOPHIA: Here ya, go. I've got a date for you. PICTURE IT: Collinsport, Maine… 1968… or 69, I'm not sure. I'm not seeing my best friend Esther so much so I take a trip by train to a place where all my cares become pointless after discovering the dramatic details of the rich snobs my friend works for.

[scene altering music, choo-choo of a train melds into the sounds of sea waves and the Dark Shadows theme music. Then a *thunk, thunk thunk* on the door knocker of the Collinwood Estate door. Creaking door opening.]

MRS. JOHNSON: (pleased) Sophia!?

SOPHIA: Gabby! It is so good to see you!

MRS. JOHNSON: (happily) Oh my, I haven't heard anyone call me that nickname for ages! Come in, come in!

SOPHIA: Hey, you've got the best gossip and tell it. What d'ya think I come all the way out here from Brooklyn for? It gets my mind off of my own problems to hear about the people you work for.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I must say, you've picked a good time. Everyone is either out or busy. Let's head to the kitchen.

[footsteps, doors creaking]

SOPHIA: Look at this kitchen, it's marvelous.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, yes. I've had to learn a lot over these new fangled machines. Have a seat and I'll put the coffee on the percolator.

SOPHIA: That will be music to my ears. That instant stuff is a joke!

MRS. JOHNSON: I know! I mean if you can't get better it'll do, but really…

SOPHIA: I had enough of that stuff on the train… well! Actually at the station.

MRS. JOHNSON: (heaving a sit down sigh) Well, you remember that Jeff Clark I wrote to you about?

SOPHIA: Yes, and don't worry, I always use those pages to start the pilot light, so no one knows.

MRS. JOHNSON: Thank you, my dear. Anyway, Jeff Clark…

SOPHIA: Who could forget? No one obviously had "previous life" so clearly etched on his forehead!

MRS. JOHNSON: Well! He finally came to terms with being Peter Bradford from 1795.

SOPHIA: Oh, good! How'd it happen?

MRS. JOHNSON: You know that doctor-lady we've harboured here who pretended to be a historian? Well she goes around with a glittery medallion trying to hypnotize people right and left. She was trying to get him to forget his work with that Dr. Lang and somehow she goofed. He remembers everything WITH all the details precise as they could BE! Not quite like that Bridey Murphy stuff!

SOPHIA: My goodness! So did Victoria and Peter get married?

MRS. JOHNSON: If they have, it wasn't here! Bad luck this place is for them. I told them to head out of Collinsport before anything else happened.

SOPHIA: Wise woman.

MRS. JOHNSON: Thank you, I do pride myself on speaking my mind WHEN the time presents itself. I packed their suitcases myself.

SOPHIA: Good for you.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I've got to be good for something around here. Picking up after the Collins' is a thankless and never-ending task. But the pay is good. Beat's scrapin' a grill all day.

SOPHIA: (knowingly) I hear ya. How about Roger's new wife?

MRS. JOHNSON: Ugh! It's so pathetic. Mr. Collins got that telephone call from a Tarot reader to leave town and find love and voom, he comes home married to "Madam Slick" with some of the loudest clothes I've ever seen. As if that and dark curls are going to distract anyone. She puts on doe-eyes, but I swear that every single member of this community knows EXACTLY who she really is and what she's about!

SOPHIA: It's incredible how she pretends. You can tell something is off by the way she acts about it. It's a dead giveaway… just like when my Dorothy tried to explain why she was going to marry that yutz of a son-in-law I have now. How is that Professor Stokes coming along?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh! He is simply a dream-boat. Takes command of every uncertainty and just gets ON with it!. I never saw anyone in this job I could adore so much.

SOPHIA: Hey, you ain't makin' sheeps eyes at him, are you?

MRS. JOHNSON: (surprised) Sophia! I'm a married woman!

SOPHIA: (jibing) Oh, sure, so where is your husband now?

MRS. JOHNSON: (smirkish) You won't catch ME out with any of those trick questions.

SOPHIA: Aw, Gabby. I was just checking. You are consistent to the last.

MRS. JOHNSON: I should hope so!

SOPHIA: So how is Professor Stokes?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, he is definitely recovering well from that dream curse. The entire thing got misaligned when I had to explain what happened to me.

SOPHIA: Why? What happened when you had the dream?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I opened a few of the doors and just screamed my head off at some of the things I had to see, but then I heard a different song from the poem everyone else heard, apparently. At least that's what the Professor told me about when I explained it. I chose a door very different from the rest and there were a group of teenagers that seemed very frightened. I didn't recognize any of them but I huddled them close and-

SOPHIA: Did you put the salt around your bed like I told you to?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes, Sophia. And I made the blessing you prescribed. It was all good, and as an afterthought, when I scrubbed out the salt—

SOPHIA: It gets that rug looking shiny-new! I told you!

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes it does! Thank you. Anyway, I brought all the boys and girls towards me and I noticed a stranger in the corner. Sophia, he had a bladed glove!

SOPHIA: Whad'ya mean a bladed glove?

MRS. JOHNSON: It was a glove with blades, like knives on the end of each finger.

SOPHIA: Mercy!

MRS. JOHNSON: And a fedora, and he looked like he'd been badly burned.

SOPHIA: Goodness!

MRS. JOHNSON: But! It was the sweater!

SOPHIA: What?

MRS. JOHNSON: He had a sweater on. With stripes of red and olive drab green.

SOPHIA: (pauses and takes a deep breath.) Wait a minute…

MRS. JOHNSON: Mmm, hmm…

SOPHIA: Isn't that…

MRS. JOHNSON: Mmmmm-hmmmm?

SOPHIA: That sounds like the sweater YOU knitted! From the yarn in the rummage sale!

MRS. JOHNSON: MMMMM-HMMMM! Ex-actly!

SOPHIA: You knitted that sweater for your tom-cat, Crackers!

MRS. JOHNSON: That's right!

SOPHIA: Goodness gracious! What did you do?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, these kids were terrified and I was too, but then when I saw that, I stiffened up. I said, now, NOW! Charley Crackers, you little tom-puss. You think you can give ME any grief after all I've done for you? That set him to stop his giggling and straighten up. I told him that these kids hadn't done him any harm and I'd done him plenty good, so if one of his nine lives was set to mischief he could CERTAINLY do a favour for ME!

SOPHIA: And what was that?

MRS. JOHNSON: I told him, you have a hankerin' to do dirty work? You go right out that door I came through and find that evil sorceress and give her what for! And HE DID! Sliced her up like a pan of sausages. I'd seen the kids out another door, of course, but goodness me! It was a sight to behold.

SOPHIA: Sounds like that worked wonders. I've been known to work a bit of a curse if you want me to add something to the fray.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, thank you, Sophia, but this really is a local concern.

SOPHIA: No, really. I could whet the whistle with some trouble myself.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, no… but actually… do you think you could telephone the next place that Victoria and Peter were staying at? They gave me the number but I'm rather tired of using the telephone lately. I go to answer the darn thing and there is always someone who is looking for someone else who isn't here.

SOPHIA: No problem, Gabby. Why do they keep driving around everywhere anyway? Why not fly?

MRS. JOHNSON: (sighs) Well, what with the loss of Miss Victoria's previous fiancé, she's not exactly partial to air travel.

SOPHIA: (knowingly) Ahhh, I see. That makes sense. Anyway, I'll get right to it. What's the number?

MRS. JOHNSON: Right next to the telephone in the foyer. You just go and make sure they're all right.

SOPHIA: No problem! (steps echoing) Who the hell are YOU?

TONY: I'm Mr. Peterson… who are you?

SOPHIA: My name… is Sophia… others know me as the terminator. What the hell do you want?

TONY: (a bit baffled) Can you let Carolyn know I'm here?

SOPHIA: … no… go upstairs and tell her yourself!

TONY: Um… okay (trotting up the stairs)

SOPHIA: What a tool! (Dialing) Hello?

LADY'S VOICE: Hello, Great Northern Lodge…

SOPHIA: Hello, I'd like to speak with Victoria and Peter Bradford, please.

LADY'S VOICE: Oh! The Bradford party! They just checked in. Please hold…

SOPHIA: And this is what they call modernization…

[phone ringing]

PETER: Hello?

SOPHIA: Hey, Peter, how'ya' doin?

PETER: Who is this?

SOPHIA: I'm calling for Mrs. Johnson. This is a friend of hers from Brooklyn. She wants to know if you hit the Pacific safe and sound.

PETER: Oh! Well, yes… I mean. I guess so.

SOPHIA: WHAD'Ya MEAN you GUESS so?

PETER: Well, I mean…

VICTORIA: Let me talk to her… Mrs. Johnson?

SOPHIA: No, this is Sophia, Sophia Petrillo and I'm a friend of Mrs. Johnson. She's busy in the kitchen and she wanted to make sure that you kids were okay.

VICTORIA: Oh yes, Mrs. Petrillo, we're fine. It's just that… well…

SOPHIA: It's all right, I can take it, I live in New York, I've seen and heard stuff you'd never dream of, just sock it to me, as they say on Laugh-In.

VICTORIA: Well, to be perfectly honest…

SOPHIA: Yes?

VICTORIA: There was a lot of trouble going on here when we arrived.

SOPHIA: Such as?

VICTORIA: Well, Mrs. Petrillo, there is an investigation going on.

SOPHIA: OF course!

VICTORIA: This girl was found wrapped in plastic…

SOPHIA: Poor woman!

VICTORIA: Named Laura Palmer.

SOPHIA: Lara Parker?

VICTORIA: NO! Laura Palmer!

SOPHIA: Oh, thank God! I thought we were about to have a cross angle on reality and fiction here.

VICTORIA: Well, it's just that everyone in town is suspect since the crime was discovered and there is a curfew and now we're a bit stuck.

SOPHIA: They should give you free room service at least!

VICTORIA: They are, actually. How did you know?

SOPHIA: Anytime the guests are hassled at any lofty hotel they give ya free room service. Then they claim their own troubles and increase the price anyway.

VICTORIA: Oh dear. Should we leave soon?

SOPHIA: No, no. If you leave that quick they'll think you did it. You gotta make a clean slate of it before you go. You might as well stay and try out the pie at the Double R Diner-wait, on second thought, don't go there. Try Jack's Fry House instead. It's off on the west side of town.

VICTORIA (sighs) I thought this was going to be such a quiet, sleepy town, too.

SOPHIA: That's what Mrs. Johnson thought when she applied for work in Collinsport! Heck, when you applied for governess that's what you thought, too, I'll bet.

VICTORIA: That is true, Mrs. Petrillo.

SOPHIA: Look at it this way, you're not involved, and you're only encountering the bare edges of a murder investigation. That's got to beat being here, in a town where exorcists refuse to go.

VICTORIA: (cheerfully) Hah, you know I didn't think of it that way.

SOPHIA: So calm down, get a massage, check out the trees and the fresh air. Drink the water, sure, but try not to mingle too much with the people. Just try to shuck off some of that nervousness you learned in Collinsport.

VICTORIA: Gee, thanks, Mrs. P. You're quite a woman.

SOPHIA: I'm the best! Ciao.

[click, footsteps]

MRS. JOHNSON: I'm just putting some cookie batter in the toaster oven.

SOPHIA: Oh, good- wait, the toaster oven?

MRS. JOHSON: Sure, if you do it that way, you only eat a few at a time and don't overdo it.

SOPHIA: Sounds good.

MRS. JOHSON: How are the kids?

SOPHIA: Oh, they're fine. There's a murder investigation going on in that town so I figure they'll be seeing some normal problems instead of the oogie-boogies we've got going on over here.

MRS. JOHSON: Oh, dear! Are they suspected?

SOPHIA: Don't worry, Gabby! They'll be fine. Everyone gets suspected. It's not a crime… to be suspected… I told them to stay put a while. Not sure where they ought to go next. And some suit went up stairs to find Carolyn, by the way.

MRS. JOHNSON: (knowingly) Ohhh, Mr. Peterson.

SOPHIA: Yeh, that's what he said.

MRS. JOHNSON: He's had an odd gleam in his eye for a while. I think he's gotten in cahoots with Mrs. Collins.

SOPHIA: No surprise there, though now that you mention it, what happened when you woke up from that dream?

MRS. JOHNSON: (pleased) Fresh as a daisy! I rarely ever remember my dreams but I was whistling all day with the thought of that one in my head.

SOPHIA: Well, he was a good cat, after all, even if the all the elm trees were a bit frayed in the neighbourhood.

MRS. JOHNSON: That's true. Cookie?

SOPHIA: Don't mind if I do. So you didn't tell anyone about your dream, other than me, I mean.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I'd gone over to the Old House around that time to deliver some eggs and Professor Stokes wanted to chat me up, so I had a nice sit down with him and squared some things away.

SOPHIA: Gabby, what the heck are you going over to the Old House to deliver eggs for? You don't have chickens?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, not anymore, after the wolves come in and ate 'em all up. Now we have to get it all delivered, but the delivery men are of two minds which house is worse. So we get all the eggs and the milkman leaves all the milk at the Old House. There's no getting through to those men.

SOPHIA: How do you manage that?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, it's that new fella working for Mr. Barnabas Collins. He's got some interesting solutions.

SOPHIA: Oh, yeh, Wadsworth. Collinsport's ode to P.G. Wodehouse. What did he come up with?

MRS. JOHNSON: He says, Madam, if the Mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain. As there is no way of persuading these gentlemen, you may bring eggs at any time you wish as these woods are so tormented, and I shall brave the early dawn to see that the milk doesn't spoil.

SOPHIA: Does he really talk like that?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes, indeed. He is a wonder…

SOPHIA: What is it, Gabby? You're eyes look a bit glassy.

MRS. JOHNSON: (sighing) Well, if you must know I have been rather concerned over Mister Roger Collins pining for that wretched Cassandra. Wadsworth noticed that I'd been somewhat strained and asked me how I'd been feeling, so I explained.

SOPHIA: What did he have to say about it?

MRS. JOHNSON: I'm not sure why but he really was able to put my mind to rest about it… at least for a time. He kept assuring me that, oh what did he say? "Dark though the days may be, all will turn right in the end."

SOPHIA: Sounds lyrical.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, you don't know the half of it. Lately when we make the switch of eggs and milk I hear him humming away and singing. He's really gotten to be quite the singer, even if it is over a sink.

SOPHIA: Well, he sounds like a charmer all right. You seem to be surrounded by some lookers. And Wadsworth had some clever ideas. Which reminds me! Did you find that big fellow yet?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh yes! I'd almost forgotten—

CAROLYN: Mrs. Johnson? Mrs. Johnson?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, excuse me a moment, Sophia.

CAROLYN: Mrs. Johnson, have you seen Mr. Collins, that is Cousin Barnabas? Mr. Peterson wanted to speak to him.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, no, Miss Stoddard, not since last night. I know he's had some actual daylight hours, lately. But who knows how long that will last? I'm sure he's bound to be out again when the sun goes down… (vaguely confused) if you can find the sun, that is.

CAROLYN: Yes, it has been overcast, hasn't it? Well, if you see him can you let him know Mr. Peterson and I will be up at Widow's Hill?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, my, Miss Stoddard. What on earth do you want to go up there for?

CAROLYN: Well not to jump to my doom, if you're wondering. We're simply going for a stroll.

MRS. JOHNSON: I'll let him know.

CAROLYN: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.

[footsteps, door closes, more footsteps]

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, that's good, then!

SOPHIA: What is, Gabby?

MRS. JOHNSON: Miss Stoddard is out of the house and will be none the wiser. I was worried I'd have to sneak Adam back upstairs.

SOPHIA: Adam?

MRS. JOHNSON: That's him, the big fellow I told you about. You said you're uncle needed a strapping, big hulk no one would take any guff from. I've let him stay in the pantry and kept feeding him. He sure has an appetite!

SOPHIA: I'll bet. How's his behavior lately? Is he throwing any tantrums?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, not at all. In fact, since I've been giving him some decent meals and letting him help cook, he's shaping up to be, well, rather gallant, as the case has it. I think someone else's been teaching him things. I can't give myself half the credit.

SOPHIA: Teaching him? Like who?

MRS. JOHNSON: I couldn't say. I just know that I can't watch him in all my own waking hours and that pantry does go down pretty far. Could be a passage through it somewhere else for all I know. Say, Sophia, didn't you say you needed someone to work for your Uncle Annuziata?

SOPHIA: Uncle Nunzio, yeh. … say, what about all the scars? Does he still have those?

MRS. JOHNSON: O' I don't know. He's your uncle!

SOPHIA: No, no no, the big fella, Adam.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, I've been working on that, too. Remember the abrasions I got from the accident with the old iron? Well, I still have big jar of that prescription cream Dr. Woodard left me, heaven rest his soul. I tried it on Adam.

SOPHIA: All healed, up? Some of that new analgesic stuff is marvelous, isn't it?

MRS. JOHNSON: Welllll, he is a lot better but you can still notice some of the scarring if you get close. BUT it is a vast improvement. I have a feeling that's been a confidence booster for him. This reminds me, he should stay away from particularly filthy work. What did your uncle need him for again?

SOPHIA: Manufacturing soap.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh! Well! That'd be good for him, I think. [door creak] Adam? Wanna come on up now? I've got a friend who'd like to see you.

ADAM: (gruff echo) A Friend?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes. Come on up.

[CLOP… CLOP… CLOP… CLOP!]

SOPHIA: Now *that's* what I call a man!

ADAM: (briskly) Why, thank you very much. Whom do I have the honour of addressing if I may be so bold as to inquire?

MRS. JOHNSON: Adam, this is my old friend, Sophia Petrillo. Sophia, this is Adam. Adam… um…

ADAM: Yes, my somewhat mixed, purloined, and cobbled heritage has left me rather without a surname. I would use what my… makers at first intended but this would incline others of mild discretion to believe I, or perhaps bits of me, are related to the family on this estate. This is, of course, not the case. Nor would I wish it to be so.

SOPHIA: Why not? You could come in to a lot of dough with a last name like that.

ADAM: A lot of dough, as you leguminously might put it, is in short order not to my taste, however newly acquired. I may not be a gentleman, but someday, I aspire to become one.

SOPHIA: Well, your mannerisms of hands folded and a few tucks at the sleeves of that smart jacket, could have fooled me. At the right angle you're practically genteel, Adam…

ADAM: I am most gratified madam.

SOPHIA: Adam… hmm, doesn't quite suit. How about Adamo? (voiced wistfully) Adamo Grisanti.

MRS. JOHNSON: Why, Sophia. Isn't that your old family name?

SOPHIA: And why not? He could be Italian. Anyone can reinvent themselves in this great land of ours. He's probably got a few parts as it is, don't you think?

ADAM: (Elegantly) How about… Adamo Grisanti… Terenzio…

SOPHIA: Più bella! Oh, may I take him home with me?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well why do you think I brought him up here to meet you?

SOPHIA: REALLY? Can I keep him?

MRS. JOHNSON: (taken aback) Sophia, that's between you and Sal!

SOPHIA: I don't want him as a second husband. I'm hoping for a second son.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, they might be able to share clothing; they're both about the same height.

SOPHIA: Nah, I don't think our Adamo here would present well in a sleeveless blouse or a silk pant suit.

ADAM: (contemplative) Hmm, I'd never thought about it…

SOPHIA: You save you're thinkin' for the trip home. Has he got any luggage, Gabby?

MRS. JOHNSON: Just the clothes on his back, as far as I know.

SOPHIA: Perfect. I hope things get better around here for you.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, they've certainly gotten more interesting. I seem to feel an inkling less foreboding each day. And, Adam, I hope you keep feeling better and better. Keep behaving yourself.

ADAM: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. You are an admirable woman. I shall endeavour to keep my temper in-check and refer to your wisdom and gentle good humour.

MRS. JOHNSON: (sweetly)That's so kind of you, Adam. Well, Sophia, you better get him out of here before I want to keep him all to myself!

SOPHIA: Yeh, you got enough fops around here …churning them out from spare parts, too! I better lower the percentage.

ADAM: Yes, lead on, madam! I am your humble servant. A new life in the big city. I am ready.

SOPHIA: See you later, Gabby. I'll let you know how things go. (To herself: )…another Grisanti… I wonder what Papa would think of this?

MRS. JOHNSON: (tearing up a bit) Oh, give us a hug you two! [ruffle] Have a safe journey, and here's some cookies for your trip!

ADAMO: Good-bye, Mrs. Johnson and good luck.

SOPHIA: I second that!

MRS. JOHNSON: (softly calling out) Goodbye.

(door creaks and closes)

RANDOM VOICE: Mrs. Johnson?

MRS. JOHNSON: GASP! Oh, Mister Collins. I thought you were napping.

ROGER: (woe-be-gone) Oh, who can sleep when the love of my life is still missing? It is a dismal heartache that… (curiously distracted) Say, who were those two?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, just a couple of out of town friends who stopped by for a cup of coffee and a biscuit or two. I hope it was all right to chat with them, Mister Collins.

ROGER: (relieved) Oh, that's fine, in fact heartily endorsed. At least someone is having a good time around this gloomy and depressing domicile. I keep trying to cheer myself up with that Dale Carnegie book but I keep misplacing it.

MRS. JOHNSON: Why, it's right over here on the… the… thing… um. Mister Collins, what is this thing over here by the coat rack and staircase?

ROGER: A mystery, Mrs. Johnson. I wanted to call it an old radio and Mrs. Stoddard keeps saying it's a commode of some sort. A mystery, Mrs. Johnson, is likely its rightful name. Oh, and thank you for the book. I shall now return to my den of woe.

MRS. JOHNSON: And me to my kitchen, Mister Collins… (muttering) to stir up some usual seafood, I suppose.

[sound of whooshing and xylophone to anchor a return to the present]

DOROTHY: (annoyed) Ma! What the hell do all those compounding, gossipy stories have in common with what's going on right now?

BLANCHE: (happily) Oh, Sophia, thank you! I know exactly what to do. I'm drivin' out right NOW to that Bed and Breakfast and talk to my Grammy!

SOPHIA: Y'see?

DOROTHY: (thoughtfully) Yeah, I think I do…

ROSE: (usual enthusiasm) Oh, I got some good stuff out of that. A college professor is obviously a great boyfriend to have. I'm going to go and meet Miles at the Ballroom and dance all night!

SOPHIA: So, Pussycat?

DOROTHY: (happily accepting) Yep, you got me, Ma! I have just the thing to order for dinner. How about fish and chips with a stewpot of clam chowder?

SOPHIA: Sounds good to me! Make sure to get some of that cheese bread to go with it!

DOROTHY: Ok!

[Golden Girls ending credits theme, morphs into Dark Shadows ending theme.]

All due respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

The Nightmare on Elm Street Flicks

The Golden Girls

Twin Peaks

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960s TV Show)

_Please share your enjoyment of this. I know it's not a lot of Golden Girls, but as my Aunt told me, "Stay away from Disney", and Buena Vista is so close I don't want to risk more. With the podcast I have to be careful. I hope you enjoy this... but of course, I shall never really know unless I'm told. Thanks._


	2. Episode 4: Captain Gregg Gets Bent

_Yep! Here it is. The first one with The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Thanks everyone!_

_Summary:_

_Here Tony and Carolyn's romance grows as they head out to Schooner Bay and being in such good spirits help out a lady who looks quite worried, and so Mrs. Muir ought to be. Sometimes Capt. Gregg has little patience. _

_The episode re-plays the damaging of Angelique's portrait by Sam Evans, but the difference is Sam Evans becomes angry when he sees it, beginning to remember something tragic from other realms he once knew. Also, as the painting is about to be scourged, Cassandra meets with Barnabas as in the original, however Wadsworth is down in the cellar singing his heart out and bringing an added tension to this scene. On Dark Shadows, when Barnabas is told that the painting is missing by Cassandra, he says "How fortunate... erm how un..." (which was obviously poor Jonathan Frid trying to correct this flub and then giving up on it.) I decided in my version to let Barnabas HAVE that flub, in all confidence and dispense with the need to correct it!_

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Episode Four: Captain Gregg Gets Bent

[Pit of Ultimate Darkness Theme Music]

MILLIGAN: Good evening and welcome once again to the Pit of Ultimate Darkness… or rather, as we like to say back stage, The PIT of ULTIMATE… DARK SHADOWS! I am your host, Sir Simon Milligan.

[Hoots and hollers from the audience.]

MILLIGAN: Oh, my! Well, thank you. I _blush_ at your patronage. TONIGHT… we enter the encapsulated subconscious of the human mind… Oh… wait a minute… perhaps not. Didn't the dream curse come and go? I must look into this skull as a fortune teller does her crystal ball.

[Three tones cascade upward.]

NASALLY WOMAN'S VOICE: If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you feel you've reached this recording in error, hang up and then dial your operator.

MILLIGAN: OCH! Well! That got me nowhere. I must now call upon my handy, well-beloved of Satan and trusty sidekick… Manservant HECUBUS!

[Rousing cheers. ]

HECUBUS: Good evening, Master. I am here to serve YOU… aaaaaaand SANTA!

[Sound of crickets.]

MILLIGAN: … say… _what?_

HECUBUS: Whoops! Just a bit of metathesis, here. Pardon me… (burps, pats chest) There, all better now.

MILLIGAN: Hecubus, I'm wondering if you recall if the dream curse has come and gone yet in our Collinsport radio drama.

HECUBUS: I believe it has, Master. In fact, I believe we are wafting into the realms of… ART!

MILLIGAN: Art… who?

HECUBUS: Oh, no, Master! Art as in drawing, painting, the visual arts. As in… The Picture of Dorian Gray .

MILLIGAN: Hecubus! You're giving away where we've ripped off our plotlines!

HECUBUS: (snickering)

MILLIGAN: EVIL! Still evil after all these years! (clapping) Ladies and gentlemen; Hecubus, The Evil One!

[Audience applauds.]

MILLIGAN: Now on with the show! We need a volunteer… YOU!

RANDOM MALE VOICE: Me?

MILLIGAN: Do you dare come to the Pit of Darkness?

RANDOM MALE VOICE: Yeah, sure, why not? Business is slow.

HECUBUS: RISE and APPROACH!

[steps]

MILLIGAN: And what is your name?

RANDOM MALE VOICE: My name is Tony Peterson.

HECUBUS: Ha! Ha! Made you say it!

TONY: Made me say what?

HECUBUS: We made you say, "My name is…"!

TONY: Um… alright, fine.

MILLIGAN: Tony Peterson, I am about to rob you of your free will, does this frighten you?

TONY: Hardly.

MILLIGAN: (shocked) WHAT?

TONY: I've had that done on a number of occasions recently, a woman with a lighter, MY lighter, kept staring at me in the garden and possessing my thoughts. If it's all the same to you I'd rather you didn't. It's been *seriously* irritating.

MILLIGAN: (crestfallen) Oh, well then… (chipper) Then how about I REASSERT your free will!?

TONY: Sounds good to me.

MILLIGAN: YOU are a GUMSHOE prominent lawyer of COLLINSPORT with all your free will INTACT!

HECUBUS: YOU are… what he said!

TONY: Aren't you going to hypnotize me first?

MILLIGAN: We just did. Um… Hecubus, please entrance him with the sleep of ages.

TONY: What's that for?

HECUBUS: Just a little validation, like having your parking ticket stamped.

PETERSON: Oh… okay.

HECUBUS: Repeat after me… Bea

TONY: Bea

HECUBUS: Oh

TONY: Oh

HECUBUS: Pro

TONY: Pro

HECUBUS: Blem.

TONY: Blem.

HECUBUS: Faster. Bea. Oh.

TONY: Bea… Oh.. Pro…

HECUBUS: Blem

TONY: Bea… Oh… Pro… Blem

HECUBUS: Faster. And page it overhead!

TONY: Bea…. Oh…. Problem… Hey, everybody, do I have a Bea O'Problem here?

HECKLER: You sure do!

TONY: You know what? I have a date. I'm leaving!

HECUBUS: Do so freely! In fact, I'm sure you P. Freely!

HECKLER: Haaaa, ha'h'hee!

MILLIGAN: And NOW! We return to you to Collinsport in which we join Tony Peterson and Carolyn Stoddard on their date, already in progress.

DARK SHADOWS THEME MUSIC…

[Sounds of car motor and background music of the standard Blue Whale variety. (Santo & Johnny)]

TONY: I'm glad you accepted my invitation to a long drive and dinner. I've been dying to get away from Collinsport for ages.

CAROLYN: Oh, me too, Tony. What's the name of this place we're going?

TONY: Norrie's Lobster House, quiet, quaint and a far cry from our usual spots at home.

CAROLYN: No, I remember Norrie's, but where is the restaurant? The city it's in?

TONY: (laughing) Oh, my! Not a city at all. Not even a town! It's a township called Schooner Bay.

CAROLYN: Township? Really? Actually, Schooner Bay sounds familiar. I think I have a great aunt that lives there…

TONY: OH?

CAROLYN: Yes, a school mistress, on my father's side. I'd love to meet her, in fact.

TONY: You haven't met her?

CAROLYN: Oh, no. Well, I didn't try. Much mention of my father's side was distracted away when I was a child, but I remember hearing about her from a chum in high school very briefly.

TONY: Maybe we'll look her up while we're there.

CAROLYN: Well, now that I think it over I'm not sure if I'm REALLY related to her. The thing is she lives in Maine and her last name is Stoddard and I just thought, you know… COULD be!

TONY: Dang… wish I could make a phone call. I have connections and might be able to find out something.

CAROLYN: You could? That would be marvelous.

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile, Barnabas, having spoken with Professor Stokes over a slice of cheese and a totally unsweetened biscuit, decides the portrait of Angelique that Roger continues to covet throughout all this time, is to be captured from Collinwood and vandalized with a certain complexity.

HECUBUS: Hee hee hee…

MILLIGAN: Yes, Hecubus. Thanks for sacrificing my shrine hostage to this torment. Now we have to suffer seeing it constantly changing hands. However, I suppose it's an integral part of the story. This is indeed the painting Roger has become enamoured with during his oh so brief marriage to Cassandra. Both our lovely Angelique and Cassandra, as we all know, are the same person. Barnabas believes this picture is the key to Cassandra's resurrection.

…

WADSWORTH: Here you are, sir. It was a fairly simple absconding and most deservedly, I'm sure.

BARNABAS: You are nothing if not a wonder, Wadsworth. A most terrifying beauty lies herein as I look at her.

WADSWORTH: Agreed, sir. Some dark entity does lurk in the features of this specimen. Of course, we both know why, sir.

BARNABAS: Tell me, how did you manage it?

WADSWORTH: Well, there is a usual exchange of delivery items betwixt here and Collinwood. I transfer the dairy to Mrs. Johnson and she hands over the eggs so we have a daily interaction that way. You see the delivery men are afraid to brave the wilds of the estate, so we arranged this solution to the dilemma.

BARNABAS: _Truly._ It makes the telephone seem obsolete.

WADSWORTH: Then call me not a wonder, sir. It is the wonders of Providence. However, while I was there I wandered about to Mr. Roger Collin's study where the portrait was hanging above his desk and there he found me.

BARNABAS: Oh my! Was he acerbic?

WADSWORTH: Somewhat, but then he was most appreciative as I was able to re-locate a volume of Dale Carnegie's he seems to continually misplace.

BARNABAS: (smilingly) Oh, yes, "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living".

WADSWORTH: The very one, sir! How did you know?

BARNABAS: I lent it to him… actually… truth be told, I left it on his desk in hopes he'd venture its pages.

WADSWORTH: NOT a bad idea, sir!

BARNABAS: Thank you, my good man.

WADSWORTH: I take it your finally catching on to my method of handling things.

BARNABAS: Well, since the death of Dr. Lang and the disappearance of Adam, I think I've finally had enough of all the pathetic _barbarism_ we've been dealing with.

WADWORTH: Yes. That wasn't exactly the best way of seeing you… _some_what cured. How one can project a life force into another body is something I'd tried myself, however. And I can't quite see the connection to having two bodies walking around with only one thing propelling them forward.

BARNABAS: Ah… then perhaps it was your odd solution.

WADSWORTH: Coffee and brandy, sir? I doubt it.

BARNABAS: Hmm, I've seen your usage of the laboratory. I think there's something quite different you've been serving me. Why you're so keen on being useful to me is still the mystery often on my mind.

WADSWORTH: "Their's not to make reply… Their's not to reason why… Their's but to do and die."

BARNABAS: Die?

WADSWORTH: Merely quoting, sir, from Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Charge of The Light Brigade".

BARNABAS: Who is that?

WADSWORTH: Was, sir… (sighs) Oh my… Dale Carnegie _before_ Tennyson sir? (tsk, tsk) Apparently you're _much_ better at secreting books for others to read than I am.

BARNABAS: I suppose. I've been a bit behind on my reading.

WADSWORTH: No _doubt_, sir. On that note, there is another quote by Tennyson I'd like to mention.

BARNABAS: Oh?

WADSWORTH: "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

BARNABAS: (sadly touched) Beautiful… and likely true. How does it fit?

WADSWORTH: (smilingly) It doesn't, sir. Between you, I and my employment here, it's not a beneficial quotation.

BARANBAS: (content) I see. Thank you for that… And without further ado I shall take this painting with me to… well.

WADSWORTH: No need to tell me, sir. It is better I don't know. Then I shan't have to explain it to anyone else. I'll close the door behind you.

BARNABAS: Thank you.

[sound of door closing]

MILLIGAN: And now we return you to Carolyn and Tony Peterson in Schooner Bay!

[sound of car door shutting]

CAROLYN: It is quaint.

TONY: I agree. Shall we go in?

CAROLYN: Wait, Tony. I just wanted to tell you…

TONY: Yes?

CAROLYN: Well, to thank you, really. This has been a very pleasant day for me. A walk by the ocean, a beautiful drive along the coast and…

[subtle smooching noise]

TONY: (gratified) Well, what was that for?

CAROLYN: For everything. My dear, you… are… one to keep!

MILLIGAN: And so they are seated, orders taken and they peruse the various topics of conversational enjoyment. Then Carolyn, more kind hearted than one might give her credit for, becomes distracted by a woman seated nearby.

CAROLYN: Excuse me, ma'am?

MA'AM: Oh, would you like the salt from this table?

CAROLYN: No, I was just wondering, if I might ask, you seem terribly upset. I was wondering if you'd like to talk about it?

MA'AM: (leaning forward) Oh, well… no… I mean, yes… well, it is a little awkward.

CAROLYN: Tony, let's move the table.

TONY: What? Toward the wall?

CAROLYN: Yes, there's not much on it yet. Just the silverware.

TONY: Well, okay, heave-ho.

MILLIGAN: And so they joined their table to their neighbors against the wall. One might be puzzled at this behaviour but good moods being so rare, the two felt ample to share.

MA'AM: Well, that's very kind of you, and so sudden, too.

TONY: We've had a lovely day, so we're only too happy to share it. Now what's the trouble?

MA'AM: Well, my name is Carolyn Muir.

HECUBUS: (snickering) Hee, hee, we made her say it, too!

MILLIGAN: Hush, Hecubus!

CAROLYN: Carolyn? Why, that's MY name, too!

MRS. MUIR: Oh! Well, in that case, it'll be just as well you call me what everyone else does. I'm Mrs. Muir.

TONY: Hello, Mrs. Muir, I'm Tony Peterson.

CAROLYN: And you know my name, wink wink, nudge nudge.

MRS. MUIR: (worriedly) Definitely… well. The crux of the matter is that I have an old painting in my home, which I'm renting… that's the house, not the painting, and my children were playing around by it and well… it's got a stain on it now… and it's dirty and old as it is and needs to be cleaned and likely a little…

CAROLYN: Refurbished?

MRS. MUIR: Yes! And though I've lived here some time, I don't know anyone who could do that kind of work on such an old painting. But it has to be done… as… well… a friend of mine has prominently put it.

TONY: A friend?

MRS. MUIR: In so many words.

CAROLYN: Oh, well…

MILLIGAN: This part of the conversation is interrupted by a request for a drink and a meal order for Mrs. Muir. I shall dispense with these trivialities and return you to the EVAN'S COTTAGE!

[knocking noises]

SAM: HUH? Mr. Collins! My, what a surprise to find you out at this hour!

BARNABAS: Oh?

SAM: The sun is still out, you know… heh, heh.

BARNABAS: Oh, yes, well my business has allowed me a bit more leisure time to devote to certain pursuits. Particularly this one.

[shifting of painting]

SAM: My goodness! _Carried_ that did you? Usually you hire someone to do all that. So many changes.

BARNABAS: I am somewhat more fit than I have been. Now, if you take a look here…

SAM: (suspicious) Hmmm… What a wicked looking woman. And familiar somehow… Attractive, but still…

BARNABAS: Yes, I entirely concur, but…

SAM: You digress, of course, here, just plop it on the easel. Now, what are you bringing me this for?

BARNABAS: I want you to age it.

SAM: Age it? This? This is hardly a new painting! It must be over a hundred years old already. If you want, I could distress the frame with sandpaper and then slap some peanut butter and jelly over the picture and wipe it with tack cloth, but I doubt that will do much. Why do you want this done?

BARNABAS: This is a job to be done with no questions. I don't want you to distress the portrait itself, just the subject in the painting so that she ages older and older until she is well over a hundred years old… maybe two. And I'd like you to begin at precisely 10:15PM and use the stiffest bristles you can manage.

SAM: But, Mister Collins, this is such gorgeous workmanship. How about I just buy it off of you for $50?

BARNABAS: How about I pay you $500 to do what I asked?

SAM: Are you serious?

BARNABAS: Do I look like I'm jesting?

SAM: (studious joviality) You *could* be playing dead pan.

BARNABAS: Mr. Evans, I would like the job done by you. With your skill, I am sure it can be accomplished to grand perfection… (distracted) I say, you appear to have gotten lost in thought…

SAM: (pause) Hmm…? I have an odd feeling…

BARNABAS: Yes?

SAM: Like I've seen her before…

BARNABAS: Oh my… not recently, have you?

SAM: No… (softly) but it seems so long ago… so very long that it would surpass my own life span…

BARNABAS: Her face is familiar to you?

SAM: No… not simply her face… the hair… the clothes… (heated) … everything.

BARNABAS: Mr. Evans… you are looking… a little…

SAM: _Vengeful?_ I believe I may feel somehow wronged by this image… Mr. Collins – I'll do it!

BARNABAS: With the harshest of brushes?

SAM: Of course.

BARNABAS: At 10:15PM precisely?

SAM: Yes… in fact, I'll just cover this up and put on an alarm here.

BARNABAS: Good idea. If you continue to stare at it, you look like you may become too eager.

SAM: I believe you're right. What could be coming over me I can't say, but I'm sure it'll make the work go _faster_.

BARNABAS: I understand. There are cases of familiarity that can charge certain emotions. (assuredness begins breaking up) Déjà vu has that… effect… on…

SAM: Mr. Collins, now you look a little lost.

BARNABAS: You know, Mr. Evans… there's something more familiar to me about you as well. I can't place it yet. Hmm… I suppose it's only…

SAM: (thoughtfully) A fluke? Likely. Not surprised. Déjà vu, funny…

BARNABAS: I believe it literally means "already seen".

SAM: Yes… French isn't it? P'shhh… that in itself is giving me déjà vu.

BARNABAS: Is it? I suppose we can only continue to wonder on that score.

MILLIGAN: With this part of Barnabas Collins's errands out of the way, we return you to Schooner Bay.

[door closing]

MRS. MUIR: Well, here we are. Home sweet home.

OLDER WOMAN'S VOICE: Oh, Mrs. Muir- hello?

MRS. MUIR: Oh, Martha, these are two people I met at Norrie's. This is Carolyn Stoddard and Tony Peterson. This is my housekeeper and good friend, Martha.

[The three exchange introductory hellos.]

MRS. MUIR: They came out to Norrie's all the way from Collinsport.

MARTHA: Collinsport? My, what a long drive! I've heard of peculiar goings ons there abouts.

TONY: I hate to be a spreader of superstition but anything you may have heard is likely fairly close to true, with a grain of salt, ma'am.

CAROLYN: (tittering) Well, perhaps a quarter-teaspoon of salt, to be more accurate.

MARTHA: Really?

CAROLYN: It's all the stormy weather, puts people into a flight of fancy.

[crash of thunder]

MARTHA: You think _you've_ got stormy weather? We do, as well, but it comes and goes so quickly sometimes. That flash and crash? Likely to make a drizzle and go out in two minutes.

CAROLYN: Probably all heads over to us.

TONY: Could be, I always wondered if any place nearby had prior warnings.

MRS. MUIR: Well, Martha, I wanted to show them the painting of the Captain. They know someone who may be able to clean and refurbish it.

MARTHA: (happily) Oh? Well, in that case have at it. I'll make some coffee to prepare you for the long journey. It will be nice to have a reprieve from the Captain a while.

MRS. MUIR: Martha, are the children in bed?

MARTHA: Oh, yes, all tucked in and sleeping like angels. We have the evening to ourselves.

MRS. MUIR: Good work, Martha. Well, let's move into the parlour here and you can look over the painting. (under her breath) Yes, I can trust them, stop worrying.

CAROLYN: (confused) Why would I be worried?

MRS. MUIR: (jumps a bit) Oh, well, it _is_ a little hard to clean, I'm sure. Well, perhaps I was worried.

[steps into another room. Click of lamp.]

MRS. MUIR: Here is the painting; Captain Gregg, he built this house and named it Gull Cottage. And, of course (falters) the bits of mustard off to the side… ahem…

CAROLYN: Oh, my, very grand, forbidding, but with a certain charm… well, minus the condiments of course.

TONY: Yes, quite an admirable looking seaman.

MRS. MUIR: (under her breath) Yes, _see_, told you we could trust them.

TONY: Hmm? Mrs. Muir, you _do_ have the habit of muttering.

MRS. MUIR: Oh, I do apologize. I tend to make mental notes in a verbal manner. I'm a writer. Are you very impressed with the portrait?

CAROLYN: Oh, yes! It's quite a change from the paintings of ancestors we have at Collinwood. With those paintings it seems to be mainly about wealth and stature rather than showing what they spend time doing. They're all so stuffy, barely a hint of a smile, but then Tony explains that's a newer expectation in portraiture.

MRS. MUIR: Oh, my, yes! Have you seen a set of the presidents portraits all lined up? I believe there was this idea (under her breath quickly) yes I'm _getting_ to that (back to normal volume) that if one smiled it wasn't dignified. But nowadays that idea has changed.

TONY: Yes, it has. A bit of Hollywood taking over. A smiling face is so much more inviting, I suppose, though I prefer honesty in expression, however it forms.

MARTHA: Here _is_ the coffee. So, are you going to leave a nice empty space over the mantel?

CAROLYN: Oh, not for too long, Martha.

MARTHA: (disappointed) Oh, I was hoping it would be a while. I'd feel a richer sense of serenity if it were… (steps out)

CAROLYN: She _does_ speak her mind, doesn't she? (giggle)

MRS. MUIR: (pleasantly) Like I said (pouring coffee) Martha is not only a housekeeper, but a friend.

TONY: Is the painting set with a basic hanging in the back?

MRS. MUIR: Oh, yes. If you can lift it and place it in your car, I'm sure it will be simple enough and, (under her breath, irritated) yes I know! (normal volume) we'll put it in paper and cloth to see it's not damaged.

MILLIGAN: And we leave them to have their coffee and transport the painting in peace. We now take you to the Main House of Collinwood, where Elizabeth Stoddard is in the drawing room wondering over a particular postcard as Roger walks in.

[sound of crackling fire, seat being taken]

ROGER: Liz? You seem a bit concerned over that. Any worries?

ELIZABETH: (mild surprise) Well… it's nice to hear you care.

ROGER: Oh, of course. I've been feeling a great deal better lately, just going over some legal matters. But what have you got there?

ELIZABETH: A postcard from Victoria.

ROGER: Ah, and how is our old governess doing?

ELIZABETH: A shaky hand wrote this, I'm afraid… postmark says Washington state, but I can't make out the city.

ROGER: Likely went to go and investigate the Space Needle in Seattle. I hear that's quite a structure for fools without fear.

ELIZABETH: Rog-_er_… Must you always have something acidic to add?

ROGER: Of course… you know me.

ELIZABETH: (sighing) To be sure, I do. At least you're calmer these days. Anyway, I do wish this fellow she finally picked out had a sure name. It doesn't surprise me she didn't tack it onto her own yet. The paper work for their marriage was so hazy.

ROGER: Ah, well… They tried… and people take it as read that their married as things are. To many of us, emblems and watermarks make a document, but the ceremony still holds higher importance to most people. If only _I'd_ been so wise to take my marriage vows as simply, then I wouldn't have to bother looking over the contractual mess of it.

ELIZABETH: Sorry to hear that, Roger… I did warn you not to marry her.

ROGER: I know it. B-u-t, I'll see how binding it all is. Anyway, what does Victoria write?

ELIZABETH: Well, the most recent place they stayed had a murder investigation going on, but they've been able to leave and move ahead.

ROGER: Heh! That doesn't sound like a good start at getting away from all the bizarre turmoil of this place. Maybe she took some of it with her.

ELIZABETH: I wouldn't think so. She was so happy when they left.

ROGER: So you said. And glad to hear it. (reassuring) Well, perhaps it was only a stroke of bad luck. If they're still on the road there's hope for them yet.

ELIZABETH: Thank you, Roger.

ROGER: You're welcome, Sister.

[patting of shoulder]

…

MILLIGAN: Little does Roger realize that his missing lady… that I _covet so highly_… has been neglecting him while snooping through windows at her old abode. I suppose she doesn't want to put in an appearance until she discovers why she's been summoned… elsewhere… Next we return to the Old House, where a not so blood-sucking anachronism of a man awaits a visitor as he has a courteous discussion with the dependable Wadsworth.

BARNABAS: I must thank you for conveying that message to… Cassandra for me.

WADSWORTH: Oh, it took a bit of driving to find her, but I was sure a certain mystic beautician in Boston would have patched up the works of our heroic Mrs. Johnson. A dream curse can only go so far.

BARNABAS: Really? Did you tell my cousin Roger _where_ she was?

WADSWORTH: I suggested it. She does seem to have the kind of vanity that gave him no misgivings about the idea.

BARNABAS: You always make me want to raise your salary.

WADSWORTH: Ah, there is no need of that quite yet. I appreciate the effort and after all of my own history, it's very nice to have such a large place to be sequestered. I do welcome the leeway you've bestowed, and the solitude.

BARNABAS: Of course. You've earned it.

WADSWORTH: If you don't mind, sir. I believe I shall venture down to the cellar and continue with my… preserves.

BARNABAS: Oh, very good, Wadsworth. You give yourself _all_ the leisure time you want tonight.

WADSWORTH: I shall, I do anticipate we'll both be needing a bit of priv'vacy.

BARNABAS: Yes, I am expecting _someone_ almost at this very minute.

[knocks on the door]

WADSWORTH: Shall I answer?

BARNABAS: No, you do best to make your way down to your preserves. I shall answer it.

WADSWORTH: Good evening, sir.

[steps, cellar door opening]

BARNABAS: And Wadsworth?

WADSWORTH: Yes, sir?

BARNABAS: Don't be hindered to keep quiet. A few rattling chains would certainly add to the atmosphere this evening.

WADSWORTH: (devilishly) Very good, sir.

[cellar door shuts, steps, creak of the Old House front door]

BARNABAS: Please come in Miss-

CASSANDRA: (self-assured) Mrs. Roger Collins.

BARNABAS: Oh, dear, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting. Well, what kept you? Oh, dear is that a cat scratch at your arm?

CASSANDRA: No, it's from a bladed glo—oh, nevermind.

STRAINS OF SINGING FROM THE CELLAR: _How d'you do? I see you've met my faithful handyman…He's just a little brought down because when you knocked…He thought you were the candyman._

CASSANDRA: (perturbed) Oh dear, perhaps you have company and this is the wrong time?

BARNABAS: (self-assured) Oh… no… hardly.

STRAINS OF SINGING FROM THE CELLAR: _"Don't get strung out by the way I look! Don't judge a book by it's cover-r-r!"_

CASSANDRA: What was that?

BARNABAS: Oh, just one of the ghosts around here… you _do_ know we have a plentiful variety of ghosts in Collinwood, yes?

CASSANDRA: No, I didn't well-

STRAINS OF SINGING CONTINUED: "_I'm not much of a man by the light of day, But by night I'm one hell of a lover!"_

BARNABAS: (politely ignoring singing) I haven't seen you around Collinwood lately (pouring brandy) I thought perhaps you were on a vacation?

SINGING: _"Let me show you around, maybe play you a sound. You look like you're both pretty gro-o-ovy!"_

CASSANDRA: No, (agitated by the distraction) I just decided to go to Boston for some shopping.

BARNABAS: Without telling anyone? That's peculiar, isn't it?

CASSANDRA: Is it? Well actually, no one even knows I've come back from that trip.

BARNABAS: Or went on it…

CASSANDRA: I had an idea you had a portrait my husband seems to have misplaced.

BARNABAS: Misplaced? You must have snuck over there and peeped in a window to get that information.

CASSANDRA: Perhaps I did. I believe that portrait is missing.

BARNABAS: (soft but plesantly) How fortunate… (regular voice) Will you have a brandy? As you can see… *I* AM having one!

CASSANDRA: Why not? It has been a bit draughty in this-

BARNABAS: House coat?

CASSANDRA: -chilly night air.

BARNABAS: Of course, (hands her glass) I know you're used to… a much… WARMER climate?

CASSANDRA: (vaguely ticked) I'm not a native of Maine, all right?

BARNABAS: Well, do *I* look of Passamaquoddy lineage to you?

CASSANDRA: Passama-what?

BARNABAS: Have your brandy…

SINGING: _"Well, you got caught with a flat? How 'bout that? Well, babies, don't you panic! By the light of the night, it'll be alright! I'll get you a Satanic Mechanic!"_

[sipping noises, then a quiet splutter]

CASSANDRA: (wipes her mouth) You still haven't mentioned why you wanted me here.

[Singing fades into the distance.]

BARNABAS: Well. It is… TEN-THIRTEEN PM and all is well.

CASSANDRA: Do you normally shout out the time?

BARNABAS: Not normally, but then here we are… with not another soul about.

SINGING ABRUPTLY RETURNING: _"I'm just a sweet transvestite! From TRANSSSS-SEXUAL_…" [singing dies away]

CASSANDRA: (sips, trying to shake off bizarre scenario) _Good brandy_… I must say I'm rather tired of sherry.

BARNABAS: I do hope so. You see, I think *tired* is a good word for how you will feel in… five… four… three… two…

CASSANDRA: What are you-

BARNABAS: ONE!

CASSANDRA: OW!

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile at the Evan's Cottage where Sam has become possessed of a previous life as Andre DuPres…

SAM: GRR! (harsh brush strokes on canvas) Despicable monster! I remember now and _strait from the underworld_. I hate you and what you did to my daughter you conniving, wrathful, underside of a beast! Now you are sixty and with this stroke I'm moving you on to eighty!

MILLIGAN: And back at the Old House.

CASSANDRA: That SMARTS!

BARNABAS: (angry) It darn well ought to! You've interfered with my family and love life far too long.

CASSANDRA: (horrified) My hand! It's wrinkled and gnarled!

BARNABAS: Well, here's a mirror if you'd like to powder your nose.

CASSANDRA: My face! What is _in_ that Ponds Cold Cream?

BARNABAS: Nevermind! You shall either repent what you've done or wither away back to the bubbling sulfur of Hell!

CASSANDRA: I'm allergic to sulfites!

BARNABAS: Then stop drinking wine!

CASSANDRA: I know what you've done! And I will find who is responsible!

BARNABAS: (amused) What? No pretending you _aren't_ Angelique?

CASSANDRA: WHO?

BARNABAS: (has had it) Oh, fine! I'll open the door for you and your miserable fro!

CASSANDRA: AHHHHHHH! (clomping out the door.)

…

MILLIGAN: We now return you to the Evan's Cottage, not to be confused with Gull Cottage… well, maybe, kind of.

[knock, knock, knock]

SAM: (wildy possessed) Oh, être foutu and sacré merde… durn pestering folks, who could _that_ be?

[stomping to the door]

[crash of thunder as the door opens]

CAROLYN: That weather DID follow us here!

TONY: It did indeed.

SAM: (breaking free of "possession") HUH? Carolyn? Mr. Peterson?

TONY: That's me!

SAM: What're you doing here?

CAROLYN: Oh, Mr. Evans, please let us in, I'm afraid it'll rain any minute!

SAM: Oh… (coming to a more normal behavior) Of course, come right in. Shall I perk some coffee?

TONY: Oh, we've already had quite a bit in Schooner Bay.

SAM: Schooner Bay?

CAROLYN: Oh, yes, Mr. Evans, we were just there and there was this very kind woman who needed a painting cleaned and refurbished and we just thought of you, naturally.

SAM: Well! I'm already working on something, in fact, it's a bit in a particular schedule for right now, I mean…

CAROLYN: Oh, I knew you'd be just the man for the job, let's bring this in…

[lugging noises]

SAM: Oh, honestly, Miss Stoddard, I can't work on this right now.

TONY: You mentioned something about coffee?

SAM: I thought you didn't want…

CAROLYN: Oh, yes, Mr. Evans, _please_ perk some coffee up. Can you make it strong?

SAM: (gratified) Well… it's about the only way I can make it.

[steps out]

CAROLYN: Good thinking, Tony.

TONY: (somewhat sensuous) Anything for you, Miss Stoddard.

CAROLYN: Oh, Tony, you are so formal.

TONY: I noticed he became that way when things weren't going how he expected.

CAROLYN: Yes, something is going on here, let's see what- *GASP*!

TONY: What is it? …**GOOD GOD!**

CAROLYN: (shocked) No kidding! That looks like Uncle Roger's wife!

TONY: And then some! But she's older and…

CAROLYN: Coming well unglued… I think…

TONY: We need to hide this before…

CAROLYN: Before he fixes it to what she looks like now?

TONY: Exactly!

CAROLYN: Ok, let's get to it! Switch the portraits.

TONY: Right behind you.

[more lugging noises… door closing]

SAM: (none the wiser) All right, here's the coffee… hey, what the heck?

[car motor noises]

MILLIGAN: And essentially, as our listeners may easily have discerned Carolyn and Tony are leaving with the painting]

SAM: Well, my bonté, I might as well go back to… WHAT THE _HELL_ IS _THIS_ PAINTING?

[Dark Shadow crescendo of downfall theme… then exit The Ghost & Mrs. Muir TV Theme]

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (1980s film)

Rocky Horror Picture Show (film)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960s TV Show)

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960s TV Show)

_Yep! It's getting different around here! But still, funny? Oui? The reviews are easy, so please, please, pretty please? ;) Thanks for reading._


	3. Episode 5: Saving Pop

**_Wow... The Addams Family fan made the first review... I don't know why but I'm surprised!_**

**_Hee, hee, hee, which fandom will speak up next? I'm still wagering on The Ghost and Mrs. Muir fans. I am worried, though. The poor Bewitched crowd and Lily Munster lovers may be grinding their teeth wondering, "Where's the pay off?!"_**

**_ Ah... I wish I didn't have to finish the podcast version first before posting the text. :( _**

_Summary:_

_This installment involves Tony and Carolyn discussing why she hasn't gone to college while they look for a place to stash the painting of Angelique._

_Next Barnabas and Prof. Stokes engage in a discussion involving some befuddling correspondence, as well as the whereabouts of Willie Loomis. _

_Meanwhile, the Evans Cottage is busy with Maggie and Sam discussing her possible employment as David's new governess, as well as her soured relationship with Joe. Upon Maggie leaving for her waitress shift, Capt Gregg appears and much is revealed of a supernatural bent after that. Angelique arrives to take back her painting but... Whoops! ...wait...Where is it?_

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Episode Five: "Saving Pop"

[Pit of Ultimate Darkness opening cave-like noises]

MILLIGAN: Good evening and once again I welcome you with a whole heart, in various degrees of wickedness, of course, to the Pit of Ultimate Darkness. I am your host Sir Simon Milligan and for those of you without a whole heart, one of both courage and deviousness, get up and go to your radio and turn the station. Go on! Exercise your exclusive uselessness to look away from your Jungian demons!

[Odd chanting, hypnotic soundtrack continues, along with audience participatory tittering.]

MILLIGAN: Now, for those of you who have remained, listen to my voice and know that to listen TO my voice is to hear the dulcet tones of E-V-I-L… Yes! I have walked along the path of evil continuously, incessantly… without trepidation… until of course a branch trips me up, or I'm trodden upon by happy joggers in track suits, or a particular bit of graffiti carved into a tree startles the sheer crap out of me… BUT I CONTINUE FORWARD! And now I'd like to present one who encompasses the beauty of the mighty Beelzebub himself; Manservant Hecubus…

[crickets chirp]

MILLIGAN: Manservant Hecubus?

[crickets continue to chirp]

MILLIGAN: MANSERVANT HECUBUS!

HECUBUS: … Hi…

MILLIGAN: (screams terrifically) Ah! What are you thinking wandering from behind? (Catches his breath) Don't you know you should always-

HECUBUS: Not catapult my car into your parking spot and then get distracted by a fair damsel and show up late anyway?

MILLIGAN: Hecubus! You didn't! I had to park at the hardware store and walk two blocks!

HECUBUS: Yessss, Master…

MILLIGAN: EVIL! And now for the sleep of ages… (speaks some gibberish) Lava-l Sava-la KA TEE!

[Theme of Pit of Ultimate Darkness]

HECUBUS: (snores)

MILLIGAN: (claps hands) Hecubus!

HECUBUS: (snoozily) Yesss, Master?

MILLIGAN: Please inform our audience… and myself for I've forgotten… where we were in our story of Collinsport.

HECUBUS: (sleepily) Yes… the painter, Sam Evans, was being inhibited by a previous incarnation as he vandalized the portrait of the beauteous Angelique.

MILLIGAN: Yes… she is a dish, isn't she? And of course, this is the same painting I had in my shrine to her that you did away with to suffice that undeserving Roger Collins. Pff… If she only knew MY feelings…

HECUBUS: Yes, Master… and as this beauteous evil was being so vandalized, two young lovers managed to switch his work with another portrait from Gull Cottage in Schooner Bay.

MILLGAN: And pray, who was in this portrait?

HECUBUS: A sea captain of extraordinary valour and spirit.

THUNDEROUS ENGLISH VOICE: THANK YOU! Yes, I am!

MILLIGAN: AH! What was that?

GREGG: It is I. Captain Daniel Gregg, or if you prefer, the ghost thereof.

MILLIGAN: This is preposterous. Ghosts are invisible. How am I seeing and hearing you?

GREGG: Because I wish it.

MILLIGAN: Well, this is a new one on me! Tell me, Captain, what are you intending for our vista of iniquity?

GREGG: I was hoping you would tell me!

HECUBUS: Master… I am fading…

MILLIGAN: Precisely, well, on with the show!

[Dark Shadows Theme Music]

[Hum of car motor]

CAROLYN: That was daring of us, wasn't it?

TONY: Yes, I'm feeling like I did in college, by golly.

CAROLYN: But, I'm not sure where to go. That thing is awfully cursed.

TONY: Cursed? No such thing.

CAROLYN: Oh, Tony, please. You live in Collinsport. You must be aware of the seriously unexplained phenomenon we have going on here.

TONY: (sighs) Yes… but I didn't want to be the one to say it.

CAROLYN: Well, that's fine. But I'm not sure where to… oh, wait a minute… wait just a minute… no don't slow down the car.

TONY: What is it?

CAROLYN: Remember, well, maybe you don't, I was held hostage by that… um, the big fella in the cemetery.

TONY: Oohhh! Yeah, that was quite a while ago, wasn't it?

CAROLYN: If you call a few weeks quite a while ago. Anyway, we could stash the painting there.

TONY: Do you remember where it is?

CAROLYN: Well, between you, me, and the glove box, I do. It's an old root cellar and it's off to the right of Eagle Hill Cemetery.

TONY: All right. I'll take a turn here and we'll be on our way. (a pause) Carolyn, do you mind if I ask you why you have remained so long in Collinsport these days? You seem the type to be attending a college at this point.

CAROLYN: Well you can see part of it. It has been a bit beyond the norm of drama, even for a wealthy family with too much time on their hands.

TONY: Again, I didn't want to be the one to actually say it.

CAROLYN: No need, my dear. I'm aware how strange it all appears. I had a few colleges in mind and my mother had a few others, of course. I did send out some applications and had a few acceptances, really. (sighs) but oh…

TONY: Nothing piqued your interest?

CAROLYN: Well, I remember getting so discouraged by a few applications. The questions were so inane! All the choices STANK. If I had written those up I would have asked the questions in a completely different way. And in multiple choice it was like picking the best of the really bad. The alternative from those schools was a degree at Iowa State, which might have been fun, but that's about it.

TONY: I see. Yes, I can't really see you as a Home Economics type, fitting up the frilly apron and powdering cupcakes.

CAROLYN: Me neither. They have other options there, but that's how I looked at it. See, I _knew_ I liked you… So what would you see me as?

TONY: Oh, well… considering the life you've been spending here, I'd anticipate a mystery novelist, or at least into gothic romance, or a bit of both, you know.

CAROLYN: Nancy Drew incarnate?

TONY: Oh, well, a bit more adult than that, I'd say.

CAROLYN: (laughing) Ah, well, I don't think I could do the writing part. But I think the administrative parts I'd be happy with. Remember who I come from.

TONY: Really? With all this material, you don't think you could do the writing part?

CAROLYN: No… it's tempting to try but I'd be happier dropping a few hints to some writers in a publishing firm. My lot is more familiar with the numbers side of things. But I thank you for the encouragement.

TONY: Carolyn Stoddard, you are my kind of girl.

CAROLYN: (thoughtful) You know something, Tony? I think I am… Oh, there it is!

…

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile, at the home of Professor Stokes, of which, if there is a name for it, escapes me at present.

[doorbell noise]

STOKES: Oh, good evening Mister Collins. And how did the other night go with…?

BARNABAS: Very well, except…

STOKES: Oh, dear… some other catastrophe has come to light as a result?

BARNABAS: Not exactly. My plan was fairly successful, well, minus a few distractions.

STOKES: You didn't become too emotional did you?

BARNABAS: (pauses) … perhaps…

STOKES: Mister Collins, you do realize that becoming too emotionally involved when practicing the mysterious arts is a fatal mistake. One needs emotion yes, but FOCUS is more important.

BARNABAS: (sighs) I know. You explained that and you are most correct, Professor Stokes. It presents a more vivid look at why her various curses at me keep dragging on so long.

STOKES: Centuries long, I'm not sure I'd call that a fatal mistake.

BARNABAS: Well, it's really my long-dead ancestor she's after. I'm just a descendant from England.

STOKES: (snickers knowingly) Of course, Mister Collins.

BARNABAS: Still… she keeps missing the target to my ultimate demise; Too much emotional involvement with the subject, Professor. I reference this as an example to keep in mind.

STOKES: As well you should, Mister Collins. And now, I must make a small confession.

BARNABAS: OH?!

STOKES: A small one, mind you, but nonetheless of peculiar importance. I shan't ask you what you know about Adam and his whereabouts. Perhaps it is best I don't understand entirely his background and what others understand him to be.

BARNABAS: What did you wish to express?

STOKES: I wanted to express that I was briefly tutoring him, in however few hours I could make an impression.

BARNABAS: I see. I suppose with your astute and collegiate background, no other person would be better equipped to handle such an infantile personality.

STOKES: As it turns out, my attempts at instruction did not go to waste.

BARNABAS: Indeed?

STOKES: Yes, I wanted to share with you this lovely picture postcard.

[Sounds of cardstock flipping and being exchanged]

BARNABAS: (much surprise) New York?

STOKES: According to both the postmark and the photo on the front.

BARNABAS: (reading) "I have left Collinsport to pursue a career in cleansing agents. I thank you deeply for your patronage and assistance. I have changed my name and intend to live a fruitful life and discover who I am amongst these many oddly placed parts. Your grateful friend, A."

STOKES: I presumed you wondered.

BARNABAS: And perhaps I have. (fluttering cardstock) It has certainly been a strange journey with… that one.

STOKES: That ONE is precisely in question. He represents the allegory of the many within one, as it were.

BARNABAS: That is an interesting metaphor to place upon him, and likely a very true one. Aren't we all placed from various parts… PAST and present?

STOKES: (chuckles) I take it you are referencing my ancestor who was the servant of your (coughs) ancestor… Do you know much about this Benjamin?

BARNABAS: A fair amount, and I must admit there is only a few rare sketches of his likeness in the family history, but you do resemble them greatly and it…

STOKES: Makes you feel a deeper kinship to me?

BARNABAS: You couldn't have expressed it better.

STOKES: I understand. And I must admit I appreciate this as well.

BARNABAS: It's more than that… as you may know, there are so rarely conclusions and resolutions in the family history, even after one has passed away, but with Ben…

STOKES: He was resolved… he did well.

BARNABAS: Yes… he did. You are the living proof. And I am very grateful for it. And with that I feel the need to share my own little missive, on the topic of hired help.

[paper fluttering noise]

STOKES: Wyndcliff? Who do you know there? Well, I suppose I could just read… (befuddled) no I _can't_.

BARNABAS: Yes, it's a bit like the print of a pussy-cat holding a Japanese brush.

STOKES: Shodo, indeed. If only Soseki's Cat could talk…

BARNABAS: Who?

STOKES: Mr. Collins, really, you seem to be a man solely of antiquity, as though there is a gap of time you've missed.

BARNABAS: Of course, not! If nothing else, I certainly know who Dale Carnegie is… At any rate, you're holding the letter upside down.

STOKES: Oh, my! Well, yes… wait a second. If you hold it upside down, there appears to be an arrangement of letters written differently to create a secret message.

BARNABAS: OH? Can you decipher it?

STOKES: I believe I… yes… Be sure…

BARNABAS: Sure? In this town?

STOKES: T'… wait, to… um… yes it's to, but as a numeral.

BARNABAS: Hmm, Be sure to… what?

STOKES: Drink…

BARNABAS: Oh, well, perhaps we shan't need to know-

STOKES: …your…

BARNABAS: Really, Professor…

STOKES: Oval…

BARNABAS: Erm…

STOKES: (confounded) Ovaltine?

BARNABAS: Huh? What is that?

STOKES: Why on earth would he… Mister Collins, do you have a vitamin deficiency of some kind?

BARNABAS: (wising up) It may be said I have something of that kind. No fear, though. My valet is giving me precisely the things I need.

[paper fluttering]

STOKES: Well, why that was in code is enough a mystery. How about the basic prose? Hmm…

BARNABAS: Yes, well, I already had Dr. Hoffman decipher it, so I can read it to you. Doctors are better equipped at deducing this griffonage than a layman, you know.

STOKES: I wish you would.

BARNABAS: (reading)" I am getting Beeman's everyday… " no, "I am getting _better_ every day. How are things at the house? Am sorry I didn't get to the pipe on the woodstove, but the creosote was very thick and I couldn't find the right brush to get all the gunk off. "

STOKES: Did he care about that work so much?

BARNABAS: Oh, yes, you'd be surprised how much our Willie managed to get accomplished with all of the, erm, other things going on at the time. (continues) "Say hello to the Doc for me and please stay out of trouble. If you ever need another handyman, well, you know where I am. I guess I miss Collinwood, you could say. Willie."

STOKES: Mr. Collins, do you think there might be something in the woodstove he speaks of? A message or object?

BARNABAS: I must say I have my doubts, but, considering Wadsworth is working on it now, I suppose I could let him know.

STOKES: He may already know. However, I am curious. Would you permit a presumption on my part in regards to Mr. Loomis?

BARNABAS: Well I would just as soon dispose of the pipe and replace much of the stove. What do you propose?

STOKES: No, not the stove. Willie, that is, I'd like to send him a few things, maybe have a specialist out to see him.

BARNABAS: (alarmed) Specialist? Why I believe he's getting the best treatment a Collins salary can provide!

STOKES: Not medical, Mr. Collins. I mean, calligraphy.

BARNABAS: (incredulous) Calligraphy? Willie?

STOKES: Yes, Mr. Collins. You'd be surprised at the benefits in character that can be gleaned from the result of simple, good penmanship.

BARNABAS: Professor… I think you have something there.

STOKES: The address, please?

BARNABAS: Of course…

…

MILlIGAN: Meanwhile at the Evan's Cottage.

[Door opening and shutting, footfalls.]

MAGGIE: Pop? Pop? Why are you just sitting there? Pop?

SAM: (as though waking up) Erm? Oh? Oh, Maggie! Where have you been all day?

MAGGIE: Oh, I was over at Collinwood for… Pop, are you all right? Were you at the Blue Whale last night?

SAM: Oh, no, I certainly wasn't there. I can promise you that. I was here.

MAGGIE: What were you doing?

SAM: Well, I had a painting project to work on and I got very involved in it and then, Miss Stoddard and Mr. Peterson showed up, just right out of the blue, and all of a sudden… THIS painting was here instead.

MAGGIE: Oh, I see. (gets up and starts walking around) Well, this looks like something you'd put together, except…

SAM: Yes, I know, there are various stains and such. I'm guessing I ought to work on doing a cleaning.

MAGGIE: Pop, do you have all the supplies you need for a cleaning? I don't think you've done one for a year, really.

SAM: Well, 7 months, but still. Who's counting? So what was this about being at Collinwood all day?

MAGGIE (sighing) Well, as you probably know, David's governess got married and packed up.

SAM: Oh… OH!... Oh? … Oh, yes! I remember now. Vicky… Did she really get married all ready?

MAGGIE: Yes, Pop. Anyway, that leaves Roger's little boy David without a governess, so believe it or not, Mrs. Stoddard asked _me._

SAM: Oh! My goodness, well… I'm not even sure what to say. Except that… well, no, I suppose the word Nanny isn't exactly appropriate.

MAGGIE: NO, Pop, you've got that right. It's just that the topic itself is a bit…

SAM: High-fallutin'?

MAGGIE: Exactly! I suppose I'd have to give up my job at the coffee shop.

SAM: Well… would that be so bad a proposition?

Maggie: Well…. I'd miss it, Pop.

SAM: Of course you would, but, well, why not?

MAGGIE: I almost wish I could do both.

SAM: (incredulous) Both? _Why?_

MAGGIE: (uncertain) Well, I just feel like… I don't know… It's like I'm pulled in two different directions and I don't want to pick between the two.

SAM: Maggie, which one do you feel is _really_ you?

MAGGIE: What?

SAM: Which of those options appeals to you more? Which one pulls you closer… I mean… you remember you took that job to bail us out. (sighs) You said yourself, you thought every member of the Evans family was born already in trouble. On some of us, it just doesn't show as much. Looks like it's finally starting to show on you.

MAGGIE: (light laugh) I doubt picking between two jobs has much to do with being born in trouble, Pop.

SAM: Why not? It's a life choice, isn't it? P-l-u-s, you're having trouble with Joe lately and—

MAGGIE: (irritatable) Oh, don't remind me…

SAM: I know, but, really… you were so upset at him because he started treating you like, well, as though he was in charge of all your choices… whatever… Even with how good he's been to you and me. Then there was that other situation that he kept interrogating you about… Wasn't it just some jewelry or something?

MAGGIE: I don't want to talk about it.

SAM: All _right_… anyway, I know how stuff like that gets your dander up. It might be the reason your having a hard time making the decision. Taking care of one child sounds simpler than serving out food to all sorts of folks in a more confined space. But the choice is yours.

MAGGIE: (awkward acceptance) Thanks. .. Still, I'm used to waitressing. Feels funny just to switch like that.

SAM: Anyway… well, I'm not sure how to tell you what to decide… but… how about you doing the evening shift at the coffee shop and spending your dayshift at Collinwood? Whad'ya say?

MAGGIE: (surprised) Oh! That… hmm?

SAM: You could figure out which one feels like the better fit for you, Maggie.

MAGGIE: I'll call Mrs. Stoddard, but, Pop, for now, what about this painting?

SAM: Erm? Oh! Yes, this painting… well, I suppose I'll hear about what the particulars are from those two who left it to my disposal. Anyway, Maggie, you have the night shift tonight at any rate, that will give you the right back-drop to think about how tired you might be from looking over a kid and textbooks all day, only to slave out the rest of the time among the locals, likely wanting something juicy when they find out what you're doing.

MAGGIE: (slightly cheered) _That's_ true. I'll have that to think about. Well, I'm out the door to work. (door creaking) Love you, Pop!

SAM: Love you too, Maggie. (door closing) Now… what is with this painting? Who are you Captain Mysterious?

[noise of Capt. Gregg appearing]

DISEMBODIED VOICE: Gregg!

SAM: (disbelief) What the hell?

GREGG: Yes. Captain Daniel Gregg, or if you prefer, the ghost thereof.

SAM: I must be hearing things.

GREGG: No, sir, if you were, you'd be seeing things as well as me at this very moment.

SAM: Well, I'll be damned. I _can_ see you! Who the hell are you?

GREGG: Whom do you suppose? The man in the portrait, my good sir.

SAM: But that's not possible, you've been dead for-

GREGG: An hundred years, my good man, but don't let it distress you… heaven knows it's distressed my painting.

SAM: BUT, you're a-

GREGG: A ghost? (chuckles) And don't I know it!

SAM: Then how am I seeing you?

GREGG: Because I _wish_ it!

SAM: (incredulous) Oh, is that how it works?

SAM: In my case it does. I accidentally kicked over the gas heater by my bedside and within those terms of the afterlife… you see there are various bureaucratic influences and so many superfluous-

SAM: (knowledgably) You're in limbo.

GREGG: Likely… and most regrettably so. But, you need to be aware of a number of things that I know. There is woman coming, a woman who is a bit fragmented.

SAM: (vaguely peeved) Angelique Bouchard?

GREGG: (shocked) You know that? You can't know that!

SAM: Bon sang, je ne peux!

GREGG: (takes a breath) Andre, is that you?

SAM: Oui!

GREGG: But Andre, you can't do this, that's possession!

SAM: Oui, but I am he, ye'know.

GREGG: Andre! You cannot do this!

SAM: I protect my daughter then, I protect her now, what difference does it make?

GREGG: Good lord, I just wanted my painting to be fixed, how in the afterlife-

[knock knock knock]

MILIGAN: And everyone knows the love of MY life has come knocking on the door!

SAM: Pour l'amour de dieu!

GREGG: Drop it, Andre, PLEASE!

SAM: Why?

GREGG: Be the man you were before you answer that door, please! Be the man you were! Let him go, Andre, please!

SAM: Oui, que m'importe?

GREGG: Let the man of NOW get back into his skin, please!

SAM: (normal again) Okay, (door creaking), Yes?

WITHERED CREATURE: Are you Sam Evans?

SAM: Who wants to know?

WITHERED CREATURE: (stepping in) It makes no difference; all that matters is that you have my painting.

SAM: I doubt it.

WITHERED CREATURE: What? Where is my painting?

SAM: I must say, what I remember of it looked a good deal like you.

WITHERED CREATURE: But where is it? Where did you put it?

SAM: If you are talking about what I had in my possession once but has recently been taken, I have no idea, honestly.

WITHERED CREATURE: This is crucial to my existence.

SAM: I don't blame you for saying so. Anything might be crucial to YOUR existence at this point; I'd wager twenty supplements a day.

WITHERED CREATURE: Who is in _that_ painting?

SAM: Well, that's an old captain friend of mine, and we've been sailing these painted shores for well nigh over…

GREGG: An hundred…

SAM: A hundred years, so if you please…

WITHERED CREATURE: (getting foul) What have you done with it!? Where is my painting?!

SAM: How should I know, Madam?

WITHERED CREATURE: RAWWWHHHHHRRRR!

[clomping stamps, door slams.]

GREGG: Well, I suppose that got rid of her. Don't worry, she never saw me, though she certainly had more ability to than most.

SAM: Captain?

GREGG: What?

SAM: I said, "Captain,"

GREGG: I said, "What?"

SAM: I said, "Captain"!

GREGG: I said, what'you'want?

SAM: Well, now that we've disposed of the problem, I'm wondering, how do you want me to go about cleaning this painting?

GREGG: In the normal way you would, I suppose.

SAM: And you'll keep me company? Honestly, It's pretty boring work.

GREGG: I shall try.

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile, Barnabas returns home and has a nap. And that nap goes something like this…

[Brief dream sequence]

Josette's music box theme in the background.

WOMAN: Good morning (carrying in tray)

MAN: Don't tell me that time travel is in it as well.

WOMAN: A woman is always impatient to wear a new dress. (twirls about) How do I look?

MAN: Different from the others. The maids come and they go.

WOMAN: We'll get along.

MAN: I'm sure you get along with everybody.

WOMAN: I've got a good mind to report you.

MAN: I'm new here!

POSTMAN: Special Delivery. Sign your number here number 6.

[muffled noises of waking up]

BARNABAS: Oh… *coughs* Wadsworth, you've got my…

WADSWORTH: Your… erm… Ovaltine, sir.

BARNABAS: So to speak, well thank you for the… um… [slurp] advice…

WADSWORTH: The car is ready if you would like to attend The Coffee Shop, sir.

BARNABAS: How did you kno-… oh, of course.

WADSWORTH: How could I not?

[car motor humming]

WADSWORTH: Would you like the radio,sir?

BARNABAS: Why not? What is the poetry of the day?

WADSWORTH: Let us see… (switch, click)

[Beatles "Hey Jude"]

BARNABAS: (listening) Oh… dear…

WADSWORTH: Have you found… "her", sir?

BARNABAS: I don't know…

WADSWORTH: You mentioned poetry of the day, sir. May I ask why?

BARNABAS: Well, Wadworth, there was a time when poetry was memorized and deeply admired… and as I find myself in this new centur- erm, in this new…

WADWORTH: Country, sir?

BARNABAS: Yes, well, to be sure, I've been interested in archives so long, I get a bit at home in olden times.

WADSWORTH: Of course, sir. So the poetry of the time?

BARNABAS: Oh, it is the popular song. With the coming of instruments powered by static and lightening fuel-

WADWORTH: Electricity, sir?

BARNABAS: Yes, now it seems the poetry is recalled in popular song. What fascinates me is that this was important long ago to children, they learned through songs of rhyming verse, and now we take this a step further. The poetry of the day is in the popular music. But, so much is about love scenarios, as well. Less story in it. Less teaching…

WADSWORTH: Well, here we are sir, (break noises) if I may ask, sir..

BARNABAS: Yes, Wadworth?

WADSWORTH: Might one take a sad song and make it better, sir?

BARNABAS: I… (hesitates) well, what else can one do with it?

[song continues with na-na's etc…car door opens , creaks a bit and shuts]

BARNABAS: (coughs) Oh my… what a… what a silly century…

[bell ringing, door shutting]

BARNABAS: Anyone here?

[steps]

MAGGIE: (pleased surprise) Barnabas Collins! (short laugh) I was JUST thinking about you. It gets so quiet in here now. I can finally listen to my own thoughts. Well! What brings you out tonight?

BARNABAS: It's late and I knew the hot plate was still on.

MAGGIE: Oh, no! I am going to perk us a fresh pot!

BARNABAS: Oh, please there is no need.

MAGGIE: Absolutely there is! I saved a packet of beans I ordered from Hawaii. It is not Kona, but it still beats anything.

BARNABAS: Oh, no, you mustn't.

MAGGIE: Yes, I must! I saved it for an occasion like this. Besides, I have far too much to chat about and I need a cup myself. I've been serving coffee all afternoon. Now you just have a seat. (walks to kitchen)

[chair scuffing floor, etc.]

BARNABAS: (speaking to himself) I think there needs to be more paintings of seaside scenes in this …

MAGGIE: (stepping back in) What's that?

BARNABAS: Just practicing.

MAGGIE: Oh? Practicing what?

BARNABAS: Sarcasm… it seems to be very prevalent in this day and … ahem… country... I'm not sure I have the knack of it.

MAGGIE: Ha, ha! Yes, that could require some practice. I must say, I likely have the knack if you want some pointers.

[Shuffling of cups and saucers in that heavy ceramic manifestation of noise]

BARNABAS: Oh, my, what a tray. Dear… Maggie, you _are_ excessively gregarious.

MAGGIE: Pff! Oh, really, Barnabas Collins, I insist. There is far too much going on that we simply need to talk about. Now, black, as usual?

BARNABAS: Perhaps as an emotional bracer…

MAGGIE: Crème and sugar? All ready, and…

BARNABAS: Crumpets? Good heavens…

MAGGIE: Spread with cinnamon apple butter, see I am not unmindful of your cultural heritage. Besides, we had them at your house already. I know what interests you.

BARNABAS: But don't you think this is far too much trouble to through on my account?

MAGGIE: (off-handed laugh) Not at all, I think a good coffee party is what we both need. I mean [chair scudding, seat taken] look at all that's been happening. Willie's gone, Wadsworth came along, Vicky and Peter married and left, Roger Collins got married, even that big fellow disappeared… the one that was keeping Carolyn hostage, and now she's off with that lawyer, we all had that terrible dream. And then! And then, those two are off to Schooner Bay and bring in a painting for Pop to fix!

BARNABAS: Goodness, Maggie, how did you wrap that up so neatly? You're better at the background of this town than the newspaper.

MAGGIE: I've got connections, you know, Mildred…

BARNABAS: Yes, Mildred Mayhem, I think I have, erm, caught the drift of that?

MAGGIE: Well… Your catchphrases are getting along, Barnabas. Anyway, (with trepidation) I have been offered a new job.

BARNABAS: (splutter) Come again?

MAGGIE: A job, Barnabas. It's at Collinwood… for David.

BARNABAS: David?

MAGGIE: Yes, your cousin, David?

BARNABAS: Victoria Winter's job?

MAGGIE: Yes, a governess, at Collinwood… You certainly are one to repeat what's been explained to you with a question mark… (thoughtful concern) Why… Barnabas you don't look a bit pleased.

BARNABAS: I, erm, I don't know. I suppose I should be pleased, but Maggie, are you sure you want to work there, that you want to be a governess?

MAGGIE: Well…. No!

[cups clattering]

MAGGIE: That's why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted your advice.

BARNABAS: (nervously) MY advice?

MAGGIE: Yes, Barnabas… right now, well, believe it or not… you're one of the closest friends I have in Collinsport.

BARNABAS: Me?

MAGGIE: Yes. You know, you do make a point of coming in for the coffee dregs during these off hours here. I doubt it was for the mountain grown richness of _Folgers_. It's not like I hadn't noticed.

HECUBUS: Master? Why do they keep mentioning beverage products? Aren't we supposed to be selling soap?

MILLIGAN: Not necessarily, my minion. Now shh!

BARNABAS: Oh? I thought you were seeing Joe Haskell.

MAGGIE: (disappointed) Oh, Joe. *sigh*.

BARNABAS: What is it?

MAGGIE: Well, we managed to split up recently. I really thought it would lead to marriage but he got jealous and…

BARNABAS: Jealous, over whom?

MAGGIE: Well, that's just it, if it was a person I might not have minded so much. It was over a pair of earrings I discovered.

BARNABAS: A pair of earrings?

MAGGIE: That was all it was! Can you believe that? I became enchanted by them and he became deranged over the whole thing and I decided, well, if he's going to get loopy over a pair of earrings I admired so much it was just as well to find out at the start that he had such strange personality traits.

BARNABAS: It was indeed… I… well… what happened…?

MAGGIE: (miffed) Oh… he took 'em and had them appraised without my knowing. Thankfully he gave them back, but we were about to go out together and I was so annoyed… I… well, I wasn't very nice.

BARNABAS: Maggie Evans… what _did_ you tell Mr. Haskell?

MAGGIE: (scoffs) Well! He asked if I was ready to leave for the restaurant and I told him, "Sure, as long as they served _baby food_"!

BARNABAS: (attempting to hide embarrassed snickers)

MAGGIE: (not noticing) Barnabas, do you think me too… well, reactionary?

BARNABAS: Was your response due to the fact that he was jealous of an inanimate object?

MAGGIE: Yes.

BARNABAS: Well, I must ask, as others might, what does your heart tell you?

MAGGIE: My heart? Well… (spacey) as I… look at you…

BARNABAS: Yes?

MAGGIE: There it is again!

BARNABAS: What?

MAGGIE: That terrible sense of familiarity. I have to wonder.

BARNABAS: Wonder?

MAGGIE: I would wonder… more coffee?

BARNABAS: (enthusiastically) Yes, please.

[sounds of liquid pouring]

MAGGIE Wonder, why there is that sense of familiarity there. When I look at you, it's like, well, this game I used to play when I was a little girl.

BARNABAS: What game?

MAGGIE: (deep breath and pause) I heard… music.

BARNABAS: (low gasp) Did you? Music…

MAGGIE: Yes, I see your smile making fun of me, but I did and it was a game. You can imagine all the wilds in this neighbourhood I could get into. I heard it… or perhaps I only pretended to… in every tree and nook and under every rock-

BARNABAS: (thoughtful) And cave?

MAGGIE: How did you know?

BARNABAS: There, um, there are a lot of caves hereabouts, on the seacoast you… you know.

MAGGIE: (softly) But why would a little girl make believe games about… a music box? I ask you.

BARNABAS: Did you ever find out what the song was?

MAGGIE: (sighs) No… and I might have heard it, but now it's completely gone from my mind. I can't hear it anymore. In fact… I haven't been able to since…

BARNABAS: Since you came back?

MAGGIE: Well… I suppose that has nothing to do with it, but… sometimes I wonder about it… AND every time I try… I just get the chills and I give up…

BARNABAS: Maggie, what about the job? Do you want to take it? (slip noise)

MAGGIE: And you took my hand, because?

BARNABAS: Emphasis… nevermind, Maggie. Do you want the job? What about this one?

MAGGIE: I might do both… well don't look like that. I wouldn't mind both. Why not?

BARNABAS: That is a lot. Why would you want both?

MAGGIE: Well, I'm not one to idle. I like to keep busy… And not only that… there are those late evenings… when I see… a dashing fellow… if you'll allow me a bit of tease.

BARNABAS: (contented low hum) I see your point. Can I tell you something?

MAGGIE: What?

BARNABAS: This… is… thee best coffee… I have ever tasted.

…

MILLIGAN: And now we lead you to a completely different coast across the continent.

[car engine halting, car doors open and shut]

PETER: Looks like there are vacancies here.

VICTORIA: My goodness, Peter. Do you see that house in the distance? I used to think Collinwood had a gloomy aspect, but that house, though smaller, has a stark _ghastliness_ about it.

PETER: Vicky, it could just be from how tired we've been looking for a place to stay… well that, and all the dark clouds threatening rain.

[crash of thunder]

VICTORIA: That lightning shooting over the premises certainly didn't help.

PETER: The office is lit up, let's go in.

[steps, door opening and shutting]

PROPRIETOR: (tiredly and a hint shaken) Hello. Did you lose your way?

PETER: Um, no, this is a motel, isn't it?

PROPRIETOR: Oh, yes, I'm just surprised. I don't get many customers, not since the new interstate was built. Bypasses the whole place. [jingling of keys] Let's see, how many nights are you staying?

VICKY: Sir, if you please, can we have a different room?

PROPRIETOR: But you haven't seen it yet.

VICKY: Call me superstitious but we're only recently married and trying to get away from some of the darker elements.

PROPRIETOR: Oh, well, (light chuckle) yes, I can understand how thirteen would not be the best room in theory.

PETER: Thank you. I think two nights would be suitable. We've been on the road a very long time. We have to get an idea of where we are and where to go next.

PROPRIETOR: Oh? Well, the main town of Fairvale is about a 15 mile drive from here. You could go in and check the little library we have, lot of maps and information that could help you.

PETER: Why, thanks. That's good to know.

PROPRIETOR: There isn't much in the way of restaurants nearby. If you like I could bring you some sandwiches and milk.

VICTORIA: Oh, you're very kind, but we filled up very well and are ready to hit the hay.

PROPRIETOR: Good idea. Looks like rain so the sooner you settle in the better. I hope you enjoy your stay.

PETER: I'm sure we will. Thank you very much, Mister…?

PROPRIETOR: Oh, please. Call me Norman.

[crash of thunder morphs into "Wot" by Captain Sensible]

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (film)

The Prisoner (1960's TV Show)

Psycho (1960's film)

Captain Sensible

The Beatles (to take a sad song and make it better)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960's TV Show)

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960's TV Show)

_ Hope you're enjoying the ride! Let me know in the box below! ;)_

_Sail Ho!_


	4. Episode 6: Coffee, Tea & Cribbage

_Hello everyone, hope you've been enjoying it, but I shan't truly know unless I'm told. :)_

_I wanted to let you know if you can't access iTunes there is a website posted in my profile page here that you can find if you click on my name. _

Summary:

_Tony and Carolyn find the perfect place to stow away Angelique's painting, and Carolyn ponders on a pen, wondering if it's one that took up too much air time in contemplation long ago._

_Captain Daniel Gregg inquires of his old friend, Andre' DuPres, well... what the heck is going on and why is he within this Sam Evans guy?_

_Elizabeth continues to investigate the history of the Seaview property with a far more laid back Roger._

_And... AT LAST! Barnabas Collins and Dr. Julia Hoffman *finally* play that game of cribbage suggested in a likely forgotten episode, coming to certain conclusions about Victoria Winters, Maggie Evans, and Willie Loomis. Wadsworth looks on, amused, and concerned._

_As for Victoria and Peter, certain unfortunate circumstances have them fleeing from The Bates Motel in panic, of course... and this leads them... to another household, perhaps?_

.*.*.*.*.*.*

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows: Episode Six "Coffee, Tea & Cribbage"

[repetitious tones of Pit of Ultimate Darkness theme]

MILLIGAN: (sadly) Good Evening, I am your host Sir Simon Milligan, and welcome once again to the pit of… ultimate… (weepy) despair…

HECUBUS: (concerned) Master, what is wrong?

MILLIGAN: (wrathful) Have I summoned you?

HECUBUS: No-

MILLIGAN: Then BE GONE!

[footfalls on stairs, then a crash]

HECUBUS: Ow!

MILLIGAN: (weepy again) I am beside myself. My beloved and ultimately evil Angelique has gone down Dorian Gray Road and winded up in Queer Street*! Och! I am running out of Halloween hankies! (blows nose and sighs) I suppose there is nothing for it… Manservant Hecubus?

HECUBUS: Yes?

MILLIGAN: (tiredly) Oh, where are you?

HECUBUS: Are you sure you want me, Master?

MILLIGAN: Yes, you beknighted buffoon! Materialize!

[an explosive poof]

HECUBUS: Here, I am!

MILLIGAN: Well, that was showy of you! Tawdry and…

HECUBUS: Do say it, Master.

MILLIGAN: (sniff and inhale) EVIL!

HECUBUS: Thank you, Master! But why so… despairing?

MILLIGAN: Oh, don't you understand? I'm in love! I am not like other men! Although I am the gatekeeper to the boys club that is the Underworld, I am sensitive to a woman's needs…

HECUBUS: What woman would that be, Master?

MILLIGAN: Oh, you know who she is… She goes by many names… off handedly I only know of two, Cassandra and... (wind and music fade in) Angelique! Oh, was there anything *I* could have done?

HECUBUS: Well, Master, I suppose reaffirming Tony Peterson's free will didn't help matters.

MILLIGAN: Hecubus… really, you point out my short comings? How, how, how… (whispered growl) e-v-i-l…

HECUBUS: Of course, Master!

MILLIGAN: (sighing) Well, I suppose all we can do is (regains composure) continue! Thusly, Carolyn Stoddard and Tony Peterson (sniffs briefly) are still on their date… I wish I was… on a date. Arg!

HECUBUS: And so! There they are at the old root cellar to hide the warped painting of Cassandra Collins. Master, here, I have an old handkerchief. I hope you don't mind-

MILLIGAN: (blows nose) –EWLLG! Smells like… a junkyard dog!

HECUBUS: Hellhound to be exact, Master.

MILLIGAN: Ah, well, I suppose that sulphurous odor will distract me.

[Ocean waves and Dark Shadows Theme, then wind and such in the background]

CAROLYN: Ooo, I didn't realize what an eerie feeling I'd have coming back here, Tony.

TONY: How long did he make you stay in here?

CAROLYN: It was hard to tell. My guess is a few days, felt like forever.

TONY: Looks like there was no shortage of food. Don't you think someone still uses this place?

CAROLYN: Not that I know of. And none of this was edible. Higher up is what's left of the house that used to use this root cellar. What are you doing?

[sounds of rummaging and shifting debris]

TONY: I think we should cover this painting up. Someone could wander in and simply see it. Why make it easy to spot?

CAROLYN: Let me give you a hand. Ugh, nasty old rotten boards.

TONY: Broken jam jars, what is _that_?

CAROLYN: Looks like a molded rug… oof, smells like it, too.

TONY: Perfect that's just the thing to cover it up with.

CAROLYN: How can you touch that horrible thing?

TONY: I've touched worse.

CAROLYN: (chuckles) Thanks.

TONY: (monotone) Ha ha ha, no not you.

CAROLYN: I think all the rest of the garbage can go back on top… (grabs something out of pile, Contemplative) oh, hey, I wonder if this is that pen we were looking for years ago… (pause) No… (drops it) Anyway, that looks good. I'm ready to leave and clean up.

TONY: Good idea. I think my flashlight battery is running down as it is. (door creaking noise) After you, my dear.

CAROLYN: (playfully gracious) Thank you, sir. (footsteps through underbrush, door creaking) Let's get that big stone over it, as well.

TONY: Wow, I'll need some help with this, too. Carolyn, did you ever see that short film? "What To Do On A Date"?

CAROLYN: I'm not sure- good heavens! This IS heavy! No wonder I could never open that door. (grunts then sighs as stone is lodged against door) You were saying?

TONY: (jovially) It was an educational film. I saw it in high school. The ideas were along the lines of weenie roasts and rummage sales, baseball games, that kind of thing.

[car door opening, car door shutting, car door opening]

CAROLYN: (lighting up) Oh, yes! And hiking, or something. Bicycle groups. Why do you mention it?

TONY: Well, (starts car engine) I have a feeling [car door shutting] this type of an evening was NOT on that list.

CAROLYN: (laughing)

MILLIGAN: And so the pair drove off to Peterson's office, where they clean up a bit, so as Carolyn needn't explain her disarray, and she is taken home to sleep off all that work. Meanwhile! At the Evan's Cottage, Sam Evans and/or the Ghost of Andre Dupres and Captain Daniel Gregg are decompressing from their experience via the Withered Cassandra and/or Angelique, as the former works on cleaning the painting and touching it up.

SAM: Now, let me put together a bit of this solution and a bit of that, little rag and-

GREGG: Andre?

SAM: Oui?

GREGG: Andre, how is it that you have been able to return to the flesh? I specifically remember knowing you as a ghost. I can definitely find plenty of resemblance between you and this man, but I met you shortly after *I* had perished.

SAM: Je-

GREGG: And don't tell me in Français!

SAM: Daniel Gregg, you do beat all. You're still lumbering about the mesosphere with no knowledge of the infinitive resources of the human soul?

GREGG: You know the answer to that, Andre. You're the one who told me.

SAM: Yes. Even beyond death, bureaucracy still permeates. It was that business of an "accidental suicide" they never can get over with you, Daniel Gregg.

GREGG: Yes, and I'm sure they're still looking me over to decide whether I meant it or not. It's gotten to be so long I'm not even sure I didn't mean to do it. I confess that is the trouble with the blasted over-analysis of it.

SAM: And so you still remain, well, IN Maine.

GREGG: Yes, Andre, but it doesn't explain why YOU are still in Maine. (laughing) I can't believe, that having my painting scourged would lead to meeting an old friend, and in the flesh! Is it some particle, some spark of an Andre Dupres, lingering in this Sam Evans? Very curious.

SAM: Daniel, do you ever ask yourself how you can do something?

GREGG: We've had this conversation before…

SAM: Oui, but not over a fine glass of Madeira.

GREGG: (claps hands) Now you're talking!

[rummaging noises]

SAM: We have a bottle or two right over here, if memory serves.

GREGG: You have his memories?

SAM: Daniel, we are the same person. [cork popping noise] That's what I've been trying to explain to you. [liquid pouring] Here, and what shall we toast to?

GREGG: _Sense_, if you can make any of all this.

SAM: Very well, to Sense. [glasses clinking, sipping noises] Now, see here, Daniel. You're stuck, that is plain as bloody plain. I myself am but a little stuck. Not like you. Have you never even glimpsed at your other lives?

GREGG: (incredulous) Other lives?

SAM: Oui! Don't you remember the spirits and the soul? The many and the one?

GREGG: Blast it, Andre! I can hardly see the bale for the hay-… wait a minute… (thoughtfully) Many spirits… but only one soul.

SAM: Heh, or vice versa. It depends on how one wants to gestate it. Like I asked, have you never wondered how to do a thing? Even just materialization?

GREGG: Not in a long time, Andre. If it's the microcosm or the macrocosm that feeds your existence in this blighted painter, I don't know. I wanted you to tell me.

SAM: Ah, but that's just it. It is a nature I cannot explain. I may have never been proficient with a paint brush in my days as a Dupres, but, you see me with this… (swishing noises) a little dab here and there. Somehow I know it now. [clink down of paintbrush on easel rest] Daniel, have you never drawn a door and knocked three times?

GREGG: Andre Dupres, you must be mad.

SAM: More Madeira?

GREGG: Please. [liquid pouring]

SAM: Do you know this town? Collinsport? Many of the citizens really know quite little about the afterlife and rebirth shenanigans going on here. Many of us have been wandering through it repeatedly and this time around the daughter I cared so much for and I have come back, as well as so many others from so long ago all in the exact same spot. It's the order of this day and age. Can you imagine a countess and a hired man reaching out to each other so many incarnations later? It's been over a century but thanks to a greedy jewel fiend, we may all be able to meet again. All went wrong, my young friend, almost two hundred years ago when this colonial enterprise was being built as a nation.

GREGG: What happened?

SAM: A witch happened and her spiral of sourness still reeks upon these shores.

GREGG: Pshaw! I've met plenty of witches in my time. They're harmless enough.

GREGG: (brooding) Oh, Daniel, not one with a chip on her shoulder the size of Seward's Folly. Really, what witches can you possibly know of in this day and age?

GREGG: (scoffs) If there isn't a fine one not a states distance away from here… right near Manhattan!

SAM: Oh? Well if she is any match for the withered husk who came in here you ought to invite her.

GREGG: (surprised) Oh? That dame who came in asking for the painting? She might have been easy enough for me, though even withered, witches can be tough as nails.

SAM: I didn't mean her exterior. I meant her withered husk of a heart. Let me explain what happened…

MILLIGAN: And since this will take more hours than possible we lead on to… The next day and to be more precise, THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON!

[standard dinging chime of the famous Collinwood grandfather clock]

MRS. JOHNSON: Mrs. Stoddard, would you like this tray in the drawing room, study, or library?

DAVID: (interrupting) Aunt Elizabeth! Have you seen my father?

ELIZABETH: Just a moment, David. Mrs. Johnson I think the study will work. Mister Collins should be there. Now, hold on a second, my young nephew. Your father and I need to discuss some legal matters.

DAVID: (dejected) Oh, all right. Well, Aunt Elizabeth, maybe you can help me.

ELIZABETH: If it's quick.

DAVID: Well, it's just that you know how I wasn't supposed to go and play at The Old House anymore?

ELIZABETH: Oh, yes. I hope you haven't transferred to playing in the cemetery… (pause) David, don't look at me like that, it _wasn't_ a suggestion!

DAVID: I know, just a bad flashback for me once when I did.

ELIZABETH: Well, there you are. So what about the Old House?

DAVID: Well, Cousin Barnabas, I mean, the way it feels over there…

ELIZABETH: The tone?

DAVID: That's it! The tone of the house is more, I dunno, easy-going than it was. I mean, ever since that new butler arrived.

ELIZABETH: Who, Wadsworth? I think he's more a valet, as he's Cousin Barnabas' personal servant.

DAVID: Whichever. But I just wanted to know if the rule could be changed… maybe if I go and ask Wadsworth.

ROGER: Liz? What is taking so long? Oh, hello David.

DAVID: Father, can I go and visit at the Old House?

ROGER: (cheerfully) Well, why not? But, David, why not go and find Sarah to play with?

DAVID: (surprised) Sarah, um, well, it's been a very long time, but, I thought…

ELIZABETH: Indeed, David, I think your father has just shocked the both of us! How can you suggest that Roger? You always proved certain that was a fantasy.

ROGER: Oh, it might be, Liz, but where's the harm? Why must we all worry so much? It's riffling to the blood pressure and puts us all into a tizzy! This house has been full enough of dark shadows, can't we have some light shadows for a change? Or at least some translucent beclouding?

DAVID: Gee, thanks… uh, um, does that mean I can go?

ROGER: Out you go, young man, and find some company worthwhile, whether it's Sarah, or Wadsworth, just stay out of mischief and be back by suppertime.

[door opens, footfalls, door shuts]

ELIZABETH: Well, brother, you're full of surprises today. Especially with a missing wife.

ROGER: (absently) Wife? Oh, yes. I must confess she's plagued me little as of recently. Such a fly by night, I'm considering annulment.

ELIZABETH: (gratified) Well! This is news! Have you looked over the necessary papers for that?

ROGER: I have indeed. She comes and goes with such rapidity I don't think she feels much responsibility to this marriage at all.

MRS. JOHNSON: The coffee is laid out in the study, Mrs. Stoddard.

ELIZABETH: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. Well, Roger?

[footsteps, door shutting]

ROGER: Now, let's pour this out and have a seat. What is this legal matter you wanted to address?

ELIZABETH: Well, here is the deed and the keys. I'm wondering why it's marked "not for sale" but that's the purpose I had in bringing this to you. I wanted your help in solving the mystery.

ROGER: Oh? (paper shuffling) The old Seaview property? Why, that property has been vacant for ages, and likely run-down altogether. What did you want to do, rent it out to some surf-fadding hipsters?

ELIZABETH: Surfing? I should think not! Those rocky shores of ours would be too treacherous and then we'd have a scandal on our hands.

ROGER: (incredulous) _THEN_ we'd have a scandal on our hands? This estate is BUILT on scandal, Liz. Where have you been?

ELIZABETH: All right, then we'd have even more scandal on our hands. Either way, that wasn't what I meant in reviewing the deed with you.

ROGER: Well, it won't be long until the Seaview property's salability is within reach. Who did you want to sell it to? Burke Devlin is out of the question.

ELIZABETH: That's obvious. However, I know that Vicky wanted it and I wouldn't be surprised if she still wanted it. I'd wanted to give it to her as a wedding present when she was about to marry Burke, but now…

ROGER: Now she is married and to completely different blighter.

ELIZABETH: Roger!

ROGER: Oh, Liz, I don't mean that. I'm just relaxing, and this is good coffee.

ELIZABETH: Hardly your beverage of choice. (snidely) Did Mrs. Johnson spike it?

ROGER: No… I did. (sipping)

ELIZABETH: (sighing) Well, no wonder then… did you only spike your cup or have you left any for me?

ROGER: (laughs) Haha, here… (clinking ceramic, and liquid poring) There's some brandy for the whole pot, and no scrimping. Now, (clears throat) Caleb Collins… he was the hermit, wasn't he? I think I remember Father referring to him as Kooky Caleb.

ELIZABETH: Kooky Uncle Caleb, if I remember rightly.

ROGER: Yes, but the alliteration is better the other way. Boy, did that man keep to himself… and… I don't blame him. Anyway, it looks like it's an open book. You could go over it with that Peterson fellow.

ELIZABETH: Really? _Really?_ I thought you despised him.

ROGER: Pshaw! Who has time for that? You know we have overdone it with suspicion and aghast in this household. Look at all we have to be thankful for. Our home is lovely, the estate is beautiful, we've got our health (knock on wood), and here is Caleb's house up for… Liz, what did you want it for?

ELIZABETH: I wanted it for Vicky. She loved that house and I believe she still does.

ROGER: That's as may be, but she and that Clark fellow have flown the coop, likely not to return. And besides, until it's free and clear, Kooky Caleb states it can't be sold before that time except to someone in the Collins family.

ELIZABETH: Well, don't you feel that Vicky is family?

ROGER: Yes, but not a Collins, biologically speaking at any rate.

ELIZABETH: That's what I mean.

ROGER: (suspiciously) What do you mean?

ELIZABETH: (lowly) Perhaps she is… biologically speaking… a Collins…

[Sinister crescendo music]

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile, at The Old House…

HOFFMAN: (sighing) So, I suppose that dream curse could have led to more people but it's terror seemed to cease somewhere between Mrs. Johnson and Professor Stokes… after that it just became a cacophony of flippant nuances from the old dream curse and then…

BARNABAS: Then? What were the dreams after that? I can tell you my little nap didn't amount to anything definable. Mostly a man shaking me that he'd gone through so much trouble raiding old coffins to find a wardrobe that fit me.

HOFFMAN: Oh, yes! What was Victoria's story?

BARNABAS: She said she didn't understand it.

HOFFMAN: Typical! But what can you remember?

BARNABAS: Well, I remember it involved a game of billiards with all 8-balls. From her description they played it more like Snooker. I remember a bit of that, but my dream showed each ball I was about to hit with a triangle on top displaying a yes or no style answer to a question.

HOFFMAN: Do you remember any of the questions or answers?

BARNABAS: Well, I remember asking if this was the dream curse. It answered "Reply hazy". Then on my next turn I asked if we were done with these confounded dreams, it answered "most likely". By the way, I scored 6 points after that.

HOFFMAN: HA! My goodness. Now I feel a bit bad for what I did after Victoria spoke to you about it.

BARNABAS: Why, what did you do?

HOFFMAN: Well, Vicky was pretty upset. I was consoling her near the fireplace. Then Cassandra wandered in and asked, doe-eyed as ever, why she was crying.

BARNABAS: Honestly? My goodness, that woman *never* gives up! What happened?

HOFFMAN: (light chuckling) I slapped her.

BARNABAS: DID you? I'll bet she warned you'd be sorry for that.

HOFFMAN: She did! Then Vicky slapped her on the other cheek. **

BARNABAS: Ahh! Ha! (laughing to the point of tears) Ah, haha, ha! Ha! Oh my! Oh no! Dare I ask what happened then?

HOFFMAN: Vicky said she deserved more than a slap in the face. (laughing) That really tickles you, doesn't it?

BARNABAS: (laughing to a calmer state) Oh, Julia, I dare say that anecdote *almost* makes everything I've gone through worthwhile. This is second to Sarah smiling at me with a lemon wedge in her mouth! Phew! So, did the dreams after that have any validity?

HOFFMAN: No. Well, from what I could make out, they seemed to inhabit story lines from Milton The Monster Cartoons.

BARNABAS: Milton The Monster? You have me at a disadvantage.

HOFFMAN: It's one of those animated presentations on the…

BARNABAS: Animated?

MILLIGAN: After Doctor Hoffman explains the new meaning of animation.

BARNABAS: So the story was?

HOFFMAN: Ugh! I am so tired. I don't even know if I want to explain the storylines after all of that. The hilarious repercussions previously have just overwhelmed me. (under her breath) Makes me feel bad about coming over here to bother him… (back to normal voice) Barnabas, haven't you been updating yourself?

BARNABAS: One hundred and seventy odd years is a lot of ground to cover. I have been working on it, Doctor. Especially since things have become a bit slower here. I finally have time. I'm still working on all the rushing about in this… day and age.

HOFFMAN: (chuckling) Oh, well, we all complain of that.

BARNABAS: Yes, but you _do_ remember, Doctor. _I_ didn't live in a time like that.

HOFFMAN: Well, (uncertain), well, well… you know, your right? We've been saying it so long. I know in the last century or two it's gotten worse, but what makes you think that people weren't in more of a hurry than in your parents' time?

BARNABAS: Something you call The Industrial Revolution. Quickly the competition was too much and humans were working alongside mindless machines, all that mattered was speed.

HOFFMAN: Oh, well, you *have* been updating yourself! That explanation is a bit simplified, but I suppose somewhat accurate. I can't say I often feel that way when I'm here. It all seems to stretch and slow down, even at the most suspenseful of moments. (sighing) You know, I've said it before and I'll say it again. It is rather dreary standing around here without us occupying ourselves.

BARNABAS: And, as I've answered before, what do you suggest, Doctor? That we play cards, or cribbage?

HOFFMAN: Hmph (thinking) … you know, what? Why not? Let's play cribbage!

BARNABAS: (thump of cane to floor) HA! (incredulous ) Are you serious?

HOFFMAN: Yes! I'm serious. Let's play cribbage.

[squeaky wheels]

WADSWORTH: I took the liberty of presuming the two of you would like a bit of tea, and…

HOFFMAN: Well, look at that. A Cribbage board and pack of cards… Spying on us were you?

WADSWORTH: Madam, the insulation of these walls is something I am still in the process of constructing.

BARNABAS: I have few secrets from this one.

HOFFMAN: Don't be silly. You have few secrets from anyone.

WADSWORTH: Would Sir be desirous that I set this up by the fireplace? It is a chilly afternoon.

BARNABAS: Tea and cribbage by the fire, wonderful, my good man.

WADSWORTH: One does try, Sir.

[cards shuffling, fireplace crackling]

WADSWORTH: Sir, I was wondering if you'd like me to begin ordering… DRIPless candles for our sunny little abode.

BARNABAS: OH? Have a problem with the lack of electricity?

WADSWORTH: Oh, no, of course not, sir. In fact it's better that there isn't any.

BARNABAS: Why is that?

WADSWORTH: Well… I am known for switching off the electricity to prove my point in certain explanations. It's just as well I don't have that temptation now.

BARNABAS: Fine… order the drip-less candles…

WADSWORTH: Very good, sir. (exits)

[card shuffling]

HOFFMAN: I'll take the liberty of dealing. Do you know all the rules?

BARNABAS: I know that I don't want to play with Muggins.

HOFFMAN: Who? Oh, yes, no stealing points. (card dealing noises) Very well.

BARNABAS: Here's my two to your crib and [liquid pouring] cream and sugar?

HOFFMAN: Just cream. (card flip) Ten…

BARNABAS: (clinking of china and card flip) Twenty. Two points for a pair.

MILLIGAN: And thusly, whether one knows this game or one doesn't, the entire array of details to this particular game of Cribbage is irrelevant enough to skip ahead. Suffice to say that our beloved red-head has reached 57 points whilst our beloved white-fang has reach 48 points and thusly…

[liquid pouring]

BARNABAS: More tea, Doctor?

HOFFMAN: Yes, thank you. You know, I've been wanting to let you know how pleased I was in your behaviour to Vicky getting married.

BARNABAS: Ah, yes, I thought you'd bring that up sooner or later. You see Doctor; I had some firsthand experience at her and Peter's awkward beginnings.

HOFFMAN: Oh? I'd been hoping it was because you'd finally listened to _my_ warnings. (shuffles cards repeatedly)

BARNABAS: Oh dear, too much fog has lifted since those gloomier days. Why do you bring it up? No, don't deal yet.

HOFFMAN: (surly) You've been going back to the coffee shop to see Maggie. I remember that you used to when you first came to Collinsport. And we saw what came of that… together… so now.. .again… Why?

BARNABAS: Really, Julia. Such a quaint evening and…

HECUBUS: (gleefully) And she's made that sinister background music show up again inviting murk and mischief, hee hee hee!

HOFFMAN: (dictatorially) Really, Barnabas… again? What else would I be wanting to ask you about? I want you to _stop_ seeing Maggie Evans.

BARNABAS: (self-assured) Or what?

HOFFMAN: (ruffled) Well… um…

BARNABAS: My dear, I am fit as the proverbial fiddle. Adam is also well off and moved on, as is Victoria, I hope. You aren't cold enough to want to bring Cassandra back-

HOFFMAN: (shudders)

BARNABAS: Except maybe for the pleasure of slapping her again.

HOFFMAN: (brightening) Say! I… well, no.

*BARNABAS: (snorts) Good to see you enjoyed that so much it was at least a tempting day dream. That shows you to be a good friend. However, if you're ploy is to threaten me with the idea of your disclosing the kidnapping of Maggie Evans, there is always your involvement with Dr. Woodward's death I could dredge up again… and frankly, I'd rather not.

HOFFMAN: (scoffs) I agree. I'd hate to see any other colleagues of mine get terminated by this place. Mind you… I could just take my medallion over to Maggie and uncover the history of her kidnapping to her alone, you know. She'd never want anything to do with you again, I'm sure.

BARNABAS: I know you can do that, Doctor Hoffman… BUT… I'd like to believe we've finally squared enough away, that neither of us is that cruel… anymore.

HOFFMAN: (touched) Really? Well, that is a surprise… and unusually kind. Still, I'm sure it isn't a good idea for you to meet with her and I'd rather you stopped. It's risky.

BARNABAS: Oh? You should know that Miss Evans may be getting hired to work at Collinwood as David's governess as things are. You might just as well ask me to move away.

HOFFMAN: (sighs) Fine… But why not wait? Seeking her out in town seems to be pushing it.

BARNABAS: Because, as she has told me herself, I'm her friend… Besides, Doctor, I think the only leverage you have is our poor Willie Loomis, and I doubt you'd truly want any harm to befall him.

HOFFMAN: Oh? How are you so sure? Perhaps I won't let him step a foot out of Wyndcliff… ever…

BARNABAS: (self-assured) Doctor, who would that benefit?

HOFFMAN: Well, it wouldn't benefit you (under her breath) and it's all I've got at the moment.

BARNABAS: You know, it's a house rule that before anyone meets the 60th point in cribbage, a wager is allowed.

HOFFMAN: (sarcastic) Oh? Really? Can I check the Family History on that one? (creak of chair and steps)

BARNABAS: Yes, page 62, under the subheading "Crib & Nod".

HOFFMAN: I see, (page flipping) looks like Joshua Collins introduced the rule in 1783… (begins to laugh)

BARNABAS: What is so amusing?

HOFFMAN: He introduced it during a game with your mother who thought the drinking hour should be earlier than four o'clock. That was the first bet with this house rule.

BARNABAS: Are you casting a slur upon my mother, Doctor Hoffman?

HOFFMAN: (chuckling) No-o-o, I'm just enchanted. (book closing with a flop)

BARNABAS: (grizzly) Why?

HOFFMAN: Because Joshua came up with the wager rule and Naomi won the wager. All right, Barnabas. What'll you bet?

BARNABAS: You have the deal, I make the wager; during "the run", or as it is now called "the play", or "the go", whomever gets the highest points in that segment wins the wager. If I win, you will release Willie Loomis from Wyndcliff at my command. If you win, I will… (hesitates) only visit Maggie at the coffee shop on Tuesday Nights.

HOFFMAN: Oh, that's hardly a bargain! You need to stay away from there entirely!

BARNABAS: (sighing) Fine, entirely. (sarcastically) That will be easy considering I wanted to have a few more paintings done by her father.

[door creak]

WADSWORTH: Sir?

BARNABAS: (impatiently) Yes, hullo, yes?

WADSWORTH: Would you like a third party witness to the-

BARNABAS: Good idea! Come right in… I say, did you um, how did you come to…

WADSWORTH: If Sir will forgive me, I wouldn't miss _this_ for all the tea in China. Is Madam concurrent?

HOFFMAN: Hmmph… well, I suppose so. So the bet is for the Go, wouldn't want to raise it to the counting of hands?

BARNABAS: While _you've_ got the crib? Not bloody likely! Deal.

[card flipping noises]

WADSWORTH: Will Sir and Madam please announce the stakes for benefit of accuracy?

BARNABAS: Yes, if I win the Go she will release Willie Loomis from Wyndcliff Sanitarium at my command.

WADSWORTH: Good heavens!

BARNABAS: If she wins the Go I promise to stop visiting Maggie Evans at The Coffee Shop.

WADSWORTH: Oh my, it all gets worse. I shall dearly pull for a draw.

BARNABAS: I put down a three.

HOFFMAN: I put down a seven which makes ten.

BARNABAS: Seven, two for a pair… that makes 17

HOFFMAN: (chuckling) Seven- Pair Royale for SIX! Top that.

BARNABAS: (also chuckling in self-assurance) Seven…

HOFFMAN: (gasps)

BARNABAS: That's a DOUBLE pair royal, AND the go of 31, that's a total of…

WADSWORTH: Sixteen points for Sir, six points for Madam.

BARNABAS: Your move.

HOFFMAN: (sighing dejectedly) Four

BARNABAS: Three, seven in all.

HOFFMAN: (dejectedly) Ten , seventeen in all…

BARNABAS: Go.

HOFFMAN: (scoffs) _You_ had that other three?

BARNABAS: Yes, I wasn't about to play it.

WADSWORTH: And so Sir wins the bet with 16 points contrary to Madam's 7? Is this correct?

HOFFMAN: Yes, (sighing) you are quite accurate, Wadsworth.

WADSWORTH: Should I make up Mister Loomis' room?

BARNABAS: No, Wadsworth. I think he has a bit more time.

HOFFMAN: Oh? Really?

BARNABAS: At my command, Doctor. That doesn't mean immediately. As of right now, I believe you have a game to win.

HOFFMAN: Me?

BARNABAS: Yes, I believe you are going to win this game, which is of lesser concern than the wager.

WADSWORTH: If Sir or Madam has no more need of me, I believe I shall make ready to shine Miss Dupres' music box.

BARNABAS: Do. (pauses as Wadsworth exits) And now, Doctor, perhaps we can continue our quiet evening without further need to out tyrannize each other?

HOFFMAN: You have the music box here, Barnabas? I thought you gave it to Victoria.

BARNABAS: I had but when she was leaving with Peter Bradford she stopped in to return it. I must say it was…. Rather moving…

HOFFMAN: I remember seeing them leave from here, but I didn't know she gave back the music box. What did she say?

BARNABAS: (resigned sigh) She said after all that's happened it didn't belong to her, and likely never did, but she was glad to have it while she did… pair for 2 and with the ace as the starter another 15 for 4…

HOFFMAN: Pair for 2, fifteen for 4 and fifteen for six… Barnabas, you weren't upset about Vicky getting married to Peter. It wasn't like that when she was about to marry Burke.

BARNABAS: (light laugh) I remember. It was appalling to me that she was going to marry Burke, who I found crass and vulgar much of the time. But I recall what grew between Victoria and Peter Bradford. And though I never had a wild fondness for Mr. Bradford, particularly in his Jeff Clark days, he had something far more enduring than Mr. Devlin. Your crib, Doctor.

HOFFMAN: Oh… pair of kings for 2. What does Mr. Bradford have that's so enduring?

BARNABAS: Honourability, courage. He put himself on the line for her. Anyway, I'm grateful she returned the music box and I agreed with her that she was probably right. It didn't belong to her.

[music box audible in the distance]

BARNABAS: That must be Wadsworth cleaning it.

HOFFMAN: Eerie timing… I wonder what they're up to now, or where they are.

BARNABAS: Ah, living happily ever after, no doubt.

MILLIGAN: Hmmm, are they? Let's look to Victoria and Peter back on the other coast to find out!

[car motor revving violently]

PETER: (demanding yet terrified scream) VICKY! GET IN THE CAR!

VICTORIA: But it isn't a woman, it's a man in drag and I think-

PETER: Victoria! Just get in!

VICTORIA: (slamming car door) It's okay. He's moving away, he's going back to the house.

PETER: (determined) We're getting out of here.

VICTORIA: Let yourself calm down, he's half way up those steps now. Peter! Lay off the pedal! This is a Dart! Not a Rolls-Royce!

PETER: She'll take the heat. (peel out noise)

VICTORIA: Slow down! We're off the grounds! (engine running, pause) Would it be worth it for me to ask if you packed your toothbrush?

PETER: (sighs and laughs nervously ) Yes, it would. I am sorry Vicky. I know that was very sudden.

VICTORIA: *Very*. (sighs) And I never got to find out if that Sam Loomis was any relation to Willie or not.

PETER: We'll live with it.

VICTORIA: I suppose so. Where are we going now?

PETER: First, we have to stop and get gas. Then I've got this letter. They mentioned an empty room for rent. (paper fluttering)

VICTORIA: (reading) Cemetery Lane… Peter, really?

PETER: (self-assured) It's all right, keep reading.

VICTORIA: Westminster, California. We are responding to your entreaty. We have an enchanting room for rent at… cut-throat prices? Your blood may be as fine as ours… (questioning) Peter-?

PETER: (tiredly) It's fine. What? We just had a man in drag come at us with a knife. Look at the names. This will be perfectly fine.

VICTORIA: Morticia and Gomez Addams. You know you're losing some credibility here, sweetheart.

PETER: What's wrong? Addams. Perfectly respectable.

VICTORIA: (sighs) All right. Can't beat the places we've been so far, can it?

PETER: Nope. Anywhere is normal compared to Collinsport.

[finger-snapping theme to The Addams Family TV show.]

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (1980's film)

Psycho (1960's film)

Milton The Monster (1960's cartoon)

Coronet (Instructional) Films

The Addam's Family (1960's TV Show)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960's TV Show)

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960's TV Show)

No, Victoria Winters did NOT slap Cassandra in the original series, but she *ought* to have done.

The possibility of playing cribbage was once mention in the show and I *had* to make that happen ^_^

_.*.*.*.*.*.*_

_Hello again, fellow fans. I discovered there is a limit to what fanfiction dot net can hold! So I'm going to make a general document and start posting it to you all. Last year I learned it was best not to post anything farther than what I'd recorded for the podfic version. As of Feb. 6__th__ 2014 I've only got 1-7 up, but with enough support this stuff could go up to 50-100 episodes. Dark Shadows __**was **__1,225 episodes long, eep. _

_Please review. Even a winkie-smile, a "lol!" or just a thanks will do. I'd love to find out if anyone who enjoys all the other shows tried Dark Shadows and got fed up with how messy things kept going and would have preferred it all became better. I think with the Dark Shadows fans it might be an unspoken rule not to encourage a story that shows them all working out their problems and seeing who they might become with far less extreme dilemmas. _

_So if I'm accurate there, let me know. I have almost all the couplings squared away in my mind and a basic plan for the rest of it that is currently 100,000 words in length, though could reach 200,000._

_Thanks. :)_


	5. Fun Author's Note

_Here's an update on what's happening to this once considered Dark Shadows only story... no rants, I promise... it's utterly amusing._

_Well Mercury is OBVIOUSLY in Retrograde with what I've done with wildly multi-fandom story now! If only I'd gone across all the fandoms sooner! It is starting like a bit of a psychedelic trip out, not that I've ever had hallucinogens. I've got enough of my own without any help. Ha!_

_ But then I figured, p'shaw, it's back on the site regardless so I might as well throw the first six episodes back to the DS group. Now I've made a poll to see which fandom enjoys it more, but I haven't presented it to any of the rest yet. I figured that would be a good idea because I see the main problem with reviewing is everyone uses device readers or phones or iPads... things I can't afford so I just don't know that universe. I figure if I made a poll that's an easier button pressing, check-mark creating system. When I finally get episode 7 posted I can reveal that it's on my profile if anyone wants to vote. It's basically got all the fandoms in it so far or the choice, "All Fandoms Involved". I originally put "All of The Above" but then I saw it placed the list in alphabetical order so that it no longer made sense to have that as a choice._

_So, here's the kicker. I was really sure "The Ghost & Mrs. Muir" fans would be the ones to review. Nope! It was a guest at "The Addams Family" version! Wow. I thought maybe that's because Mrs. Muir shows up by Ep.4 and The Captain does by Ep.5 so they're more or less appeased rather quickly. LOL!_

_It was funny. When that letter is read from Gomez & Morticia at the end of Ep.6 the reviewer finally posted, "At Last! There's The Addams Family!" _

_Then said a few more nice things. I posted back a huge thank you and if he or she had any relief at finally seeing The Addams Family there was no idea how big my relief was at seeing a review for the whole story. Also said he didn't like to read scripts so much but that it's enjoyable anyway. So I added in my response review that it was why I'd decided to create the podcast version. Man! Made my morning!_

_So now I'm thinking about that competition idea. It shouldn't be ME competing with anyone! Maybe all the other fandoms could compete. Which group might feel the story is closer to what they like in their own? Hmmm! A fun concept! I really can't wait for my old Facebook page to delete so I can use an account and get more promotion done in whatever lazy-arse way people seem to need catered to them. What I appreciated about "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir" versus the "The Addams Family" is that their numbers are actually more or less the same! I put in one of the episodes that the poor Bewitched and Lily Munster fans were likely grinding their teeth wondering where the heck the pay off was for them? _

_Ah, well, I made different first episodes for each of them so they would know when to expect their possible favourites. They're numbers are lower, though. Poor things... so ignored. _

_Still editing the voice-only audio for number 8. Got through Blair and the prostitute, etc, now it's back to Wadsworth going for the hang-over cures. I hope I can stick to 6,000 words a pop in the future. That seems to be the best length. Hopefully I'll get some snaps when it's up since Willie is coming along in all his Wyndcliff glory if you all recall. Hope the voice is good enough. I should have made him shakier like in my later recordings. Darn Loomis... he never seems to make anything all that easy... I'll likely finally get a word from a listener only to tell me, "Your Willie Loomis impression sucks!" To which I guess I'll just have to respond, "You're welcome." *chuckling* _

_Take care gentle readers,_

_Daryl _

_P.S. And if you're wondering about The Ghost & Mrs. Muir review... well one reader was confused by Carolyn Stoddard and Carolyn Muir and why was Mrs. Muir dating this Tony Peterson guy she'd never heard of... oh *sad laughter* I feel bad..._


	6. Episode 7: The Blair Warlock

**The author now understands what this story is truly about. It's not for any majority of Dark Shadows fans. It's for the fans of all of the other programs who felt cast-out from the Dark Shadows world and the frustration that Collinsport could never change or heal. Well, here I am to prove that it can, for you and I.**

**Keep up the reviews everyone in all the fandoms. I know I'm posting this earlier than I wanted to, but even after the first day, I'm far more impressed with you than I ever expected to be. Thank you!**

Summary:

_In the Pit of Ultimate Darkness, Sir Simon once hosted at an Italian Eatery... So here he hosts at another eating establishment..._

_Maggie is still having flashes of supernatural curiousity, eventually meeting up with Barnabas elsewhere. Meanwhile her father and Capt. Gregg hash out a few details._

_David comes across Wadsworth in the woods and they try and devise a plan to find Sarah *without* her usual "London Bridges" tune._

_Peter Victoria finally arrive at their new destination, and although spooky and altogether 'ooky, has far pleasanter elements then their last two stops. ^_^_

_.*.*.*.*.*.*_

Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows Episode 7: "The Blair Warlock… Projected"

Dedicated to Mere ^_^ (& response to kind bestowal of mini candle set)

[Pit of Ultimate Darkness Theme]

MILLIGAN: Good evening! I am Sir Simon Milligan. And welcome once again, to the PIT of Ultimate… DA-A-A-RKNESSSSSS! … Tonight! Conveniently located at the… COFFEE SHOP!

AUDIENCE: WOOOOO!

MILLIGAN: Oh, hose-it, it's not all that great! We don't know if our star performers of this diner will even make a guest appearance.

AUDIENCE: (dejected) Awwww…

MILLIGAN: But, do not lose hope! This diner is famous for its cheap menu, genuine Maritime atmosphere and… its capacity… for evil…

AUDIENCE: (light applause and mellow response) …yay…

MILLIGAN: Excuse me, waitress? Waitress? Wait… oh… see, EVIL! Evil waitress will receive an Unholy tip!

MAGGIE: Oh? Sorry, sir, what did you-?

MILLIGAN: Oh, Miss Evans, forgive me, I didn't realize it was you.

MAGGIE: How do you know my last name?

MILLIGAN: (abashed) Well, I come in here rather often… if, perchance, only to spy.

MAGGIE: SPY? (incredulous) What on earth would you have to spy on in this old place?

MILLIGAN: Oh, only for those quality beverages you happen to serve to the… more deserving?

MAGGIE: Well, I don't know quite what you mean, but I must assume that you… (getting spacey) walk alone upon the path of…

MILLIGAN: Evil!

MAGGIE: Yes, that's right. Well, maybe that's not right-right, but, well, what was it you ordered?

MILLIGAN: Poached eggs on toast, good woman.

MAGGIE: My name is Maggie, Mister M.

MILLIGAN: Are you S-U-R-E?

MAGGIE: Of course, I'm… well, I'm sure I've been called other names, though "good woman" and "Sure" I can't quite recall. Did you want coffee with that, Sir… Simon?

MILLIGAN: Decaf, if you please. I've been a bit stressed out.

MAGGIE: Anything else?

MILLIGAN: Thank you, that will be all – Josette.

MAGGIE: Coming right uh- beg your pardon?

MILLIGAN: (stretching out the French J) J—osette, I mean, Miss Dupres.

MAGGIE: Wait a minute. Have you been talking to my father?

MILLIGAN: Mayy-y-y-be, that depends on which one you mean.

MAGGIE: (snide impatience) Ohhh, I get it now. I bet you're the reason Pop's been so peculiar lately, or maybe you and he have this joke set up to taunt me.

MILLIGAN: What do you mean, Madam?

MAGGIE: Him and that painting, pretending to share a bottle of Med… whatever it's called, and randomly speaking French words when he's barely learned any French in all his life.

MILLIGAN: Oh, no, that's not me. No, I am merely a poppet of prescience in this little sphere. Though you must admit, my addresses to you sounded a… wee bit familiar?

MAGGIE: Perhaps a touch. I'm sure it has something to do with the history of this town, of which I've had to study up for my other job. [bell rings] Now if you'll excuse me, I'll bring in your order.

MILLIGAN: Of course. And for my minions of the transistor, I can allay my fears that all of that confounding dialogue helped to keep her from asking… why my rather large desk has replaced the little booth that was along this wall earlier… Why, what's this? A rolling service?

[low rumbling of rolling wheels and metal cart]

MAGGIE: Your order, sir, poached eggs on toast, decaffeinated coffee and-

MILLIGAN: Manservant HECUBUS?

[audience hoots and hollers]

HECUBUS: Here to serve, Master… i-n-n-n-n satin! And lovingly displayed upon this trolley just… for… you!

MILLIGAN: Och! Hecubus! Not my nose! None of that now!

MAGGIE: (cutesy) Oh, but that adorability in you must be shown affection somehow. As for me, I must return this trolley, so if you don't mind…

HECUBUS: Indeed, and up I go! (steps to ground)

MAGGIE: Enjoy. (Trolley wheels rolling away.)

MILLIGAN: Indeed. And so we must catch up our audience with the Collinsport doings…

HECUBUS: Master, are you going to eat that?

MILLIGAN: (smacking sound) Hands off! Now where were we?

HECUBUS: A fascinating game of cribbage between Doctor Hoffman and Barnabas Collins, and sneaking suspicions of Victoria Winters origins from Elizabeth Stoddard and Roger Collins, Peter Bradford and Victoria Winters escaping The Bates Motel the better to propel themselves forward into unknown territory, AND…

MILLIGAN: And?

HECUBUS: (Stage whisper) The mysterious history of Sam Evans previous lifetime coupled with the ghost of Captain Daniel Gregg of Schooner Bay!

[footsteps]

MAGGIE: Well, I shan't wait anymore. If Barnabas Collins comes in can you tell him I'll be at The Eagle Tavern?

MILLIGAN: Don't you mean The Blue Whale?

MAGGIE: Isn't that what I said?

MILLIGAN: Oh, yes, of course.

MAGGIE: (stepping about) And my unholy tip?

MILLIGAN: Oh! (fumbles through the change in his pockets) There, how would twelve half-dollars suit you? (coins clanging)

MAGGIE: Oh, my! Thank you, Sir! (laughs) I think I know who'll be buying the drinks tonight! (stepping away)

(bell-ringing, door closing]

MILLIGAN: Ah! It's so good to see a young woman in such a happy state.

[mind altering Pit of Ultimate Darkness music]

MILLIGAN: And now, join us, for the continuation of this epic alteration into the Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows…

[Dark Shadows Theme Music]

MILLIGAN: Welcome back as you've patiently waited through the crashing ocean waves… Henceforth we lead you to! … a telephone call…

OPERATOR: (nasally voice) Number please.

SAM: Yes, can you connect me to Collinsport 4099, please? … thank you… Ha-low! Mr. Peterson? Yes – this is Sam Evans calling… Whad'ya mean WHO? Sam Evans! … You and Miss Stoddard dropped off a painting at my cottage at a late hour so I could clean it… Yes, I *have* cleaned it, but I haven't the foggiest idea who it belongs to, as it is… Uh-huh… Who?... Mrs. Muir? … Has she called you? … Why are you telling me about her dog?... No, just wondering… What?... No… Well, let me put it this way; I don't recall that I was working on anything before you arrived that night… Yep… All *I* know is that Barnabas Collins owes me a whopping sum of deniro… Uh-huh…Well, I'd _like_ you to come by… HUH? You don't have a date with Miss Stoddard? (incredulous) Do you need to? … Oh well, I understand, since it was a dual venture… Well *make* a date with her, old man! (laughs) Jiminy! Do you want ME to orchestrate it and be your chaperone or something?!... Ah, that's fine… (sighs) Well, considering that routine visits to anyone's house and getting them to arrive on time is usually laced with the "oh-wait-but-this" scenario, especially in THIS town, let's shoot for 9:30 tonight. No, no- don't think of it as arriving later! Think of it as SHOOTING for 9:30PM… All right. I'll expect you then… with a huge volume of Proust… Very good! See you then. Good-bye. [clank of receiver ]

GREGG: Andre?

SAM: (startled) Oooph! Phew…

GREGG: I _could_ just tap you on the shoulder, but I suppose it would be just as startling. Tell, me, sir, why didn't you just ask _me_ for Mrs. Muir's whereabouts and where to take the painting?

SAM: Captain Gregg-

GREGG: Daniel, if you please, my good man, don't forget our friendship.

SAM: Well, I do feel like I need to use a title or something since you're always calling me by an ex-name. It's a bit confusing, Captain. I can't say one night of sleep, or even two, would completely merge these past life scenarios I've been putting myself through.

GREGG: Aye, sir. It is much easier as a ghost, I'd say.

SAM: I remember… (thoughtful) you know, I do remember. I suppose, from what you say, (pensive) it was from getting so close to becoming a ghost again, myself.

GREGG: Well, let me tell you, Andre, it's much preferable to me as things are currently. We wouldn't be of much use to each other on my sphere… other than company and sharing old times.

SAM: (snapping to) Yes! I agree. I must say,… Daniel, it does help me to reconcile all the kooky calamities in this town, knowing what I know now.

GREGG: Well, what is on the agenda today?

SAM: Today? I've got to go into town and see if I can find another coffee maker… this darn percolator's busted on me.

GREGG: Why not just get a siphon?

SAM: Oh come, Daniel, that's likely to burst… with all the distraction in this town? Are you shitting me?*

GREGG: Hardly Andre! I haven't the innards… Yes, I agree, a percolator is much safer. But what shall I do in the mean time?

SAM: You're a ghost, you have the ability, go and see that Mrs. Muir of yourn and let her know what's going on… But, mind you! [creak of door opening] you needn't tell her all about MY history.

GREGG: Then what DO I tell her, Andre?

SAM: I'm recalling that imagination of yours, Daniel! You'll figure it out. [door shuts]

GREGG: Blasted Frenchman… though I suppose he isn't so much of one now… hmmm… I shall stroke my beard in consternation.

MILLIGAN: And now we take you to the woods between Collinwood proper and The Old House.

DAVID: (singing) London Bridges falling down, falling down, falling—arg! That's terrible. Just thinking about her makes me want to sing that song. It drives me crazy…

[rustling]

DAVID: (scared) Who's there? Who is it?

WADSWORTH: It is only I, Master David.

DAVID: Wadworth! Oh, thank heavens. What've you got there?

WADSWORTH: Ah, well, let us walk on back to Collinwood and I shall explain.

DAVID: All right.

WADSWORTH: Now, young man, you know that there is a lot of talk about this estate and all the various secretive ideas that go on in Collinsport.

DAVID: Tell me ABOUT it!

[sound of walking through brush and such as they go]

WADSWORTH: I shall and do so thusly. You see, in order to be sure we have our fresh supplies to prepare for mealtimes; we need a number of delivery services. However, this estate with its history and tales among the neighbours, the men who deliver these goods are a bit squeamish to come here. We do have one service for the main house and another for the old house. They brave the estates uncertain dramatic structure, though neither brings the same goods and either one lack the courage to deliver to both. So, this is my usual daily walk to make the exchange with Mrs. Johnson. You see?

DAVID: Oh, yes! In fact, it's been nice to see you. It's like there is a basic pattern as you go, something to rely on, as well. Do you enjoy working here, Wadsworth, or is it only a job to you?

WADSWORTH: Only a job? Ha! No, Master David, it presents me with puzzles, and the challenge of bringing a sense of order to each home I've worked for. As for working here especially, I find it quite pleasant. Such places are beginning to dwindle, I'm afraid. But what about you, sir? Do you have a delivery exchange of your own?

DAVID: No, not really. I'm just walking around in the woods trying to find a… strange friend?

WADSWORTH: Elusive, Master David?

DAVID: Yes! Elusive! With all the town talk and not going to the public school… not that I'd want to, really, it's not like I have a lot of friends.

WADSWORTH: Indeed. I can understand. But that song you were singing.

DAVID: Oh, don't remind me… I am so sick of that song. I wish I could get her to sing another one.

WADSWORTH: Her? You mean Sarah?

DAVID: Say, you know about her?

WADSWORTH: I know _of_ her, certainly. Her knowledge of music must range from very long ago, Master David. I would wager it would be wise to entice her with a song from… well, one that was known about two centuries past.

DAVID: (dejected) Oh, how can I find out about those? If I hear "London Bridges" one more time I'm going to explode.

WADSWORTH: Ah, yes, Master David that is a tough case. I wonder if she can be persuaded to remember another song…

DAVID: Incense and Peppermints?

WADWORTH: Oh, no she wouldn't know that one, I'm sure.

DAVID: Or Penny Lane?

WADSWORTH: No, no… I… hmm… pennies… Ah, there's the house. Let's go in and see about some old sheet music, though I mustn't stay long.

MILLIGAN: And while Wadsworth and Master David are wracking their brains over various tunes we return to Victoria and Peter… on the opposite coast.

[car door slam, bird tweeting]

VICTORIA: This is it?

PETER: (proudly) This is it!

VICTORIA: Looks like a corner brew-pub from the British Isles.

PETER: Huh?

VICTORIA: The way an entrance seems to stick out of the corner. Not to mention all the fog that's only emitting from the sides of this house in particular.

PETER: Well you haven't been inside yet.

VICTORIA: Peter, if I had to pick between Twin Peaks and the Bates Motel, I'd say this was a good deal in-between. Have you got the letter?

PETER: Of course, why do you ask?

VICTORIA: It's always good to arrive with an invitation… darling…

MILLIGAN: From inside the house!

GOMEZ: S-A-Y! I heard the word "darling".

MORTICIA: *gasp* It must be our newlyweds, Gomez! Oh, my, I think I'm going to cry.

GOMEZ: Nonsense! You cry at weddings! These two have already _been_ married.

MORTICIA: Yes, you're right, my dear. Must keep a stiff lower-lip.

GOMEZ: That's the spirit.

[sounds of a fog-horn, which means the doorbell has been rung. Door slowly creaks open. Peter & Victoria beginning to scream but are so frightened they don't get very far from the start.]

GOMEZ: Oh, do beg pardon! It's all right, Lurch, I should greet our guests.

LURCH: (standard esophageal groan and receding footfalls.)

GOMEZ: Welcome! Please come in! It _is_ Peter Bradford, is it?

PETER: (vaguely relieved) Yes, sir and you are Gomez Addams?

GOMEZ: (boisterous) In the flesh, and hopefully not too fresh! And you must be the blushing bride!

VICTORIA: Yes, Mr. Addams. Oh, well, thank you. I don't think I've had my hand kissed since we left home weeks ago.

GOMEZ: Ah, and now I must introduce you to my lovely wife, Morticia.

MORTICIA: Welcome, I've looked so forward to meeting you! Please, Victoria, come and have a seat. We have cocktails all waiting.

VICTORIA: Oh, are they supposed to steam like that?

MORTICIA: Of course. Now, Victoria Bradford, is it?

VICTORIA: Actually, no, I've been keeping my maiden name.

MORTICIA: Oh? So your name is?

VICTORIA: My name is Victoria Winters.

HECUBUS: Yes! She's finally said it!

MILLIGAN: Truly, now we must hush!

MORTICIA: Oh, my! That is indeed chilly! Lovely! I'd have a hard time giving that one up, too.

VICTORIA: Well, the real reason is that I want to make sure anyone who might be related to me can find me. You see (abashed) I'm an orphan.

MORTICIA: An orphan?!

VICTORIA: Oh, please, I hope that hasn't shocked you.

MORTICIA: An orphan! Gomez, darling! This fine lady is an orphan!

GOMEZ: Oh, is she? Marvelous! All the rage, you know.

PETER: Are you serious?

GOMEZ: Of course! Here, have a cocktail.

PETER: Uh, is it very strong?

GOMEZ: Of course! No skimping on that account.

PETER: (sipping with extensive cough of exhale)

GOMEZ: (backslapping) There, ya see?

MORTICIA: Have you truly no idea of your background or parentage, my dear?

VICTORIA: None whatsoever. I'm glad that's not a problem for you.

MORTICIA: Hardly! It's romantic, isn't it?

VICTORIA: I suppose… it would be romantic to find a splendid past, but now it's such a mystery.

MORTICIA: And what brings you out here?

VICTORIA: Oh, the place where we use to live. You see there were a lot of troubles there. It was a very prominent town.

MORTICIA: Where was it?

VICTORIA: Collinsport, Maine. I'm sure you've never heard of it.

MORTICIA: OH!

VICTORIA: You mean, you _have_ heard of it?

MORTICIA: Yes (brooding) quite a place, indeed.

VICTORIA: I hope it's no reflection on us.

MORTICIA: Quite the contrary. From my knowledge everyone there has full, rich lives, but continually they pretend otherwise.

VICTORIA: Pretend? Oh, well… I… never thought of it that way. Is that a shawl you're making, Mrs. Addams?

MORTICIA: Why yes… not quite finished. Do you like it?

VICTORIA: Well, it is a bit Victorian…

MORTICIA: Than YOU shall have it!

VICTORIA: ME?

MORTICIA: Yes, your name sake, you said so yourself. And it'll prove to keep you warm in the cold and cool in the warm.

VICTORIA: Well, thank you very much… now what were you saying about the residents of Collinsport?

MILLIGAN: Switching back to the residents of said Collinsport! And in the evening…

[door knocker echoes, door opens slowly with a creak]

CAROLYN: (happily) Welllll! How are you, Mr Peterson?

TONY: Pleased to see you, ma'am! May I come in?

CAROLYN: Certainly! (elated) Come in to the drawing room.

[footsteps, drawing room doors shutting]

CAROLYN: Have a seat (hair swishing) Just checking to see if the coast is clear.

TONY: Oh? (smile in the voice) Whatever for?

CAROLYN: Oh, stop! Ever since we went on our shenanigans mission…

TONY: Feeling like a kid again, eh?

CAROLYN: (laughing gasp) Truly! Oh, my gosh! How about you?

TONY: (sighs happily) Yep… I have to say after going through depositions most of the day, I kept smiling at the thought of all that… and you. (peck noise)

CAROLYN: Thanks. You know, it's funny. I've had some wild times in the last year or so, but when I'm with you… for some reason I notice this more innocent-ticklish side to me comes out.

TONY: Well, you know why that is, don't you?

CAROLYN: Because, so far, our dates have turned into spontaneous scenarios?

TONY: Well, that, too. But, I don't know if you remember (clothing swipe) how I felt about you?

CAROLYN: Ohh! I remember you telling me.

TONY: And then I remember seeing you with Buzz later-

CAROLYN: OLD HAT! Like I said, those wild times… and now.

TONY: Things are better?

CAROLYN: Definitely more fun! I _will_ say that! Not a crazy fun, but, a sort of… mysterious one.

[Old clock dings nine times]

CAROLYN: There goes Old Quaverton- Nine O'Clock and alls-well…

TONY: Old Quaverton?

CAROLYN: Oh, (brief giggle) that's the clock.

TONY: (incredulous) You named your clock?

CAROLYN: Oh, I didn't! It's a family tradition. Much under-used lately, as I come to think of it. It's had mechanical problems over the decades; used to make a quavering ring when I was little. Actually, it tends to repeat that problem until someone fixes it. It's been in this house since the first day it was lived in.

TONY: And the time is accurate?

CAROLYN: Well, Mrs. Johnson used to phone the time & temperature every morning, but I noticed that Cousin Barnabas's valet, Wadsworth, has been doing it when he comes by in the mornings, sometimes. I know it gets checked regularly. So, yes. I believe it's very accurate.

TONY: Very good! So…

CAROLYN: So…?

TONY: Would you do me the honour of…

CAROLYN: Another date? Tonight?

TONY: (slightly abashed) Of course…

CAROLYN: Hmm! (self-assured) That depends- is it a Bowling Party, or a Square Dance, or a Record Concert?

TONY: Or a Swim Meet, or a Weenie Roast, or a Museum Field Trip?

CAROLYN: Or a Bike Trip To Rock Point? Or an Art Lecture?

TONY: (laughing) Ah! No it's none of those! But darn it! You are as amazing on the inside as on the outside. I can't take it-

[Thud on cushions]

HECUBUS: W-o-w! Master! What is that?

MILLIGAN: That is a pouncing make-out scene on the Davenport… and we're NOT zoned for it.

HECUBUS: Oh, well- let's enjoy it!

MILLIGAN: As do they!

[General make-out noises and silences ensue, doors opening and then approaching footsteps]

ELIZABETH: Having FUN?

[Ticklish hoots and gasps]

CAROLYN: Oh, Mother!

ELIZABETH: Carolyn, as an upstanding member of this community I would expect… (pauses & sighs) Oh, nevermind… (under breath) At least it's not _Buzz…_

CAROLYN: Mother… are you, are you? (giggling) Look! She's laughing!

ELIZABETH: (trying to hold it together) I'm not laughing. That's just a… a…

TONY: (slightly nervous) A simper?

ELIZABETH: Exactly, Mr. Peterson. Perhaps, I am… lost in a personal memory.

TONY: Should I be worried?

CAROLYN: P'shaw.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Peterson… I can only ask…

TONY: Yes, Madame?

ELIZABETH: You needn't be so formal.

TONY: Oh, yes, erm, pardon me, Mrs. Stoddard.

ELIZABETH: I can only ask… well, how do you feel toward Carolyn? Is it honourable?

TONY: WHAT? Seriously? I can assure you my intentions are quite honourable. If a little tipsy.

CAROLYN: (playful surprise) Mr. Peterson!

ELIZABETH: And would you call it… love?

TONY: Well, Mrs. Stoddard, how about adoration? I certainly have that.

ELIZABETH: Ah, it'll do. Besides I overheard a bit of the conversation. Sounds like you two express some genuine affection between the in-jokes. As uplifting as all this is, though- (flustered) my goodness… don't young people do these things in automobiles now?

CAROLYN: Not if we think the doors are closed.

ELIZABETH: Well, that is true; I did rather two-handedly thrust both doors open like a matron-of-the-manor.

CAROLYN: You _are_ matron-of-the-manor, Mother.

ELIZABETH: You know what I mean… It's just as well you have arrived. I need a lawyer to go over some property rights.

TONY: Oh? Well, that is kind of you to consider my skills, but we-

[Door knocker whaps and all respond with a jerk.]

ELIZABETH: (recomposes herself and sighs) I suppose I'll answer that, as matronly as I am and without enough house-staff.

TONY & CAROLYN: (hand covered snickers)

[door opens]

SLICK MALE VOICE: (boisterously) Ah! Mr. Collins! I should have recognized you any… wuh, where… erm—(confused) wait a minute! You're not supposed to…

ELIZABETH: Not supposed to what? Open my own door?

SLICK MALE VOICE: I'm sorry, I'd heard you were… well… that you'd sadly passed away. Mrs. Stoddard, is it?

ELIZABETH: (NOT amused) Yes! And I _haven't_ passed away, and the presumption in my doorway is rather disturbing as I don't know who you are to _begin_ with.

SLICK MALE VOICE: Oh, I AM sorry, madam. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.

ELIZABETH: Accepted (under breath) with reservations.

SLICK MALE VOICE: Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Nicholas Blair.

ELIZABETH: (A pause.) You say that as though it's supposed to mean something to me…

BLAIR: (boisterously) Cassandra's brother!

[Threatening scene music… which chokes and dies away.]

ELIZABETH: Hmm…

BLAIR: Hmmm?

ELIZABETH: Quite a surprise… an extraordinary surprise. Do step in… mind you, that is NOT an invitation, just a courtesy.

BLAIR: (self-assured) Oh I imagine—(again confused) Wh' … huh?

ELIZABETH: Carolyn?

CAROLYN: Yes, Mother?

ELIZABETH: This is Cassandra's brother. Can you find your Uncle and tell him he has a caller?

CAROLYN: Oh, all right. (wanders off)

HECUBUS: (bated breath) Master… is he? Is he? OUR Master?

MILLIGAN: (sighs) No, I'm afraid not. He's fairly well-off in the realms of Tartarus but beyond that-

HECUBUS: (confused) He's not… Satan?

MILLIGAN: (resignedly) No… and believe me, we are not alone in the disappointment of it.

ROGER: What's all this, then? Oh, fine attire! Gloves, even. Well, aren't _you_ just the **dandy?**

ELIZABETH: Roger, this is Cassandra's brother, Nicholas Blair.

BLAIR: It is good to see Collinwood. Cassandra has written me so much about it.

ROGER: (incredulous, vague interest) Oh, _has_ she? Could I get you a drink?

BLAIR: (regaining slickness) No, no… I don't have… little vices.

ELIZABETH: Mr. Blair, this is Mr. Peterson.

BLAIR: Oh, how do you do?

TONY: How do you do?

BLAIR: (self-assured) You seem familiar. I think Cassandra mentioned you in her letters also.

TONY: (gratefully) Oh, no, that must be mixed up with someone else.

ROGER: Now, let's get to these papers.

ELIZABETH: Yes, Mr. Peterson, please stay, we may need your skills in this matter.

TONY: (under breath) Yep, this is was Mr. Evans meant by the oh-wait-but-this scenario…

ROGER: You see Mr. Blair, Cassandra has been missing and I have the documents here from this envelope.

[Papers fluttering.]

BLAIR: I don't follow.

ROGER: Well, I'm in the middle of an annulment.

BLAIR: (angered) Annulment? To Cassandra? On what grounds?

ROGER: (unfazed, almost bored) Oh, abandonment, being under the influence, ahem! lack of consummation, (coughs) Deception and of course, clandestinity.

BLAIR: But this is absurd! I was sure my sister was safely on this estate, but if there is this mockery going on-

ROGER: Will you please sign here?

BLAIR: Absolutely not!

ROGER: Well, in that case, we have no further business.[rustles papers back into envelope] Cassandra has been missing for weeks, and I'm of the understanding she shan't be back.

BLAIR: (seething) This is preposterous. I expected a man of your stature to grant me-

ROGER: Oh? A man of my stature to grant you… what? A house on the estate, rent free? Sitting around waiting for my soon to be non-wife to make a convenient appearance? No. If you are not going to help with this I must ask you to leave.

BLAIR: (appealingly) Mrs. Stoddard?

ELIZABETH: This way, Mr. Blair.

[footsteps and door opening]

BLAIR: (utterly confused) But-but-but, where shall I stay? Can you give me no inkling of where she might be?

ELIZABETH: (pleasantly) Well, she IS your sister, Mr. Blair. You yourself might have a better deduction of her whereabouts. We've hardly known her for the month she was here. And if you insist on staying in Collinsport, there is the Collinsport Inn.

BLAIR: Well, I-

ELIZABETH: Good evening, Mr. Blair and good luck!

[door shuts and there is a collective, though understated, breath of relief]

TONY: Well that was just plain _bizarre_.

CAROLYN:( (happily) _I'll _say, but terribly nice to see for a change.

ROGER: Yes! Very good, Sister.

ELIZABETH: (indignant satisfaction) Oh! I've been _dying_ to throw someone out of this house since those _nasty_ nightmares came into it. Roger will you please pour me a brandy?

ROGER: Certainly! Mr. Peterson?

TONY: Oh, no. I think we'll be going soon.

ROGER: Kitten?

CAROLYN: Hmm? Oh, no thank you, Uncle Roger. We must be going.

ROGER: Well, enjoy your date, you two.

ELIZABETH: And Mr. Peterson. We'll be hoping for your sound advice involving a piece of property soon. I hope we see you again in short order.

TONY: Of course, Mrs. Stoddard. Mr. Collins…

CAROLYN: Good evening!

EVERYONE ELSE: Good evening!

[drawing room doors close]

TONY: What the devil did we just witness?

CAROLYN: Devil is right, but not a very convincing one. Anyway, where are we off to?

TONY: Well, if that man isn't lurking outside in a vent of frustration, we need to see Mr. Evans.

CAROLYN: Oh! Has he finished the painting?

TONY: I believe so. . . You're uncle has sure changed!

CAROLYN: For the better I hope. He's much more relaxed. Now let's take a peek…

[door creaks open]

TONY: Do you see him out there?

CAROLYN: No. Do you see him?

TONY: No…

[wind whistling]

CAROLYN: Race you to the car?

TONY: On your mark… get set… GO!

[Door slamming shut and racing footsteps]

MILLIGAN: Meanwhile, the evening progressing, we take you to Eagle Tav- I mean, The Blue Whale!

[Noises of glasses tinkling, conversation, low music…]

BOB: Hiya, Maggie! What'll it be?

MAGGIE: Rum & Cola, Bob.

BOB: Ah, well (liquid pouring) not your usual poison.

MAGGIE: No, but I'm feeling a bit… different… tonight.

BOB: Here you go, Maggie. (slide of glass across bar) and , oh, wow, half-dollars. Any special change? Dimes and a nickel or?

MAGGIE: Just a quarter. I'll need it for the jukebox.

BOB: Right-o, (register shuffles and dings) here you are. (clank of quarter)

MAGGIE: (sipping) I'll be putting in my song. If a dashing Old-World gentleman with a cane wanders in, can you point him in my direction?

BOB: Ah, sure, Maggie. Not a big crowd tonight anyway. Looks like it's just you and me so far.

MAGGIE: I noticed that, too. Worried about losing your usual earnings?

BOB: (laid back) Naw, it's nice to finally have some quiet around here. I gotta say I barely make even sometimes having to clean up the joint with all the fist-fights and KNIVES I'm used to seeing in this place.

MAGGIE: (laughing) Uh-huh, I remember hearing about how gruesome it gets, but then again, even a good drink has that effect on people.

BOB: True. I should'a listened to my dad when he mentioned getting into tailoring.

MAGGIE: You and me both.

BOB: Really? Ah well. Any seats open to you here. You just enjoy yourself.

MAGGIE: Thanks, Punchy.

[footsteps, music begins to fade, plunk of quarter into mechanical regions, ka'chunking of jukebox buttons. Low sigh.]

BARNABAS: (usual sensuous appeal) May I have this dance, Miss Evans?

MAGGIE: (quick inhale) Aw… Mr. Collins … I thought you'd never ask…

[sound of glass and cane to table… "Sleep Walk" by Santo & Johnny plays]

BARNABAS: Can't say I know this type of music very well…

MAGGIE: Doing well so far… I'm able to follow.

[slow dancing footsteps]

BARNABAS: Feeling well, my dear?

MAGGIE: Now, that you're here… (swish) nice change.

BARNABAS: I know a few dances… with this playing out, I've got to guess.

MAGGIE: (steps and sniffs a giggle) Yep, this seems a bit of the tango…

BARNABAS: … ah, that's what you call it…

[music continues without dialogue six measures]

MAGGIE: Did you come here from the coffee shop?

BARNABAS: No… I knew… I had a feeling you were here instead.

MAGGIE: Ah… and had the urge for a dance with a working girl?

BARNABAS: Oh… you are… much more than that.

[music-plays out, "Misty" by Santo & Johnny plays, chairs rustle]

MAGGIE: Ah, that was refreshing. Reminds me of something… not sure what…

BARNABAS: Don't you?

MAGGIE: Now, what does _that_ knowing grin mean?

BARNABAS: Just… enjoying the company.

MAGGIE: Not missing the coffee shop?

BARNABAS: No, are you?

MAGGIE: No.

BARNABAS: My cousin David tells me he's looking forward to having you as his new governess.

MAGGIE: Oh, good! It's always nice to hear of welcome beyond my own talk with him.

BARNABAS: Now tell me, have you worked everything out there and at home?

MAGGIE: (sighs) Well, yes, the manager is fine with my coming in for a few hours after six o'clock. Mrs. Stoddard let me know I needn't make early mornings unless I want to move in. I doubt I'll want to do that.

BARNABAS: Wise decision. And you can always change your mind.

MAGGIE: Quite… and I wanted to ask you… I'm going to get a bit confounded, I think. Which Mister Collins shall I keep calling Mister Collins?

BARNABAS: I hope it isn't me.

MAGGIE: Even on the estate?

BARNABAS: Even there. If anyone finds it inappropriate then… oh dear.

MAGGIE: What is it?

BARNABAS: (slightly irritable memory) Well, I was going to say have them discuss it with me, but then there were those conversations I dread.

MAGGIE: Oh, if it isn't convenient-

BARNABAS: No, it's not so much that, but… remember before Wadsworth arrived?

MAGGIE: I do. It's almost like the wind changed direction. I know it didn't but…

BARNABAS: It seemed like everyone on the estate and beyond, we all had these inanely indefatigable conversations upon a single point. I just became concerned the conversation style might return on… such a topic.

MAGGIE: Well, let's not have that type of discussion now. I'll call you by your first name or your whole name and if anyone has any trouble I'll just follow their lead.

BARNABAS: Not a problem?

MAGGIE: Well, you've just seen me in action. I can follow a lead. Besides, why would anyone have any trouble? It's not like we're dating or something.

BARNABAS: Oh… we're not?

MAGGIE: I don't remember you asking me out… Now _those_ two.

BARNABAS: Oh! Cousin Carolyn and Mister Peterson? They seem to be in a bit of a hurry.

MAGGIE: Well, they should be. They're supposed to be meeting Pop tonight. But that's not what I mean. Look at how they're almost glowing?

BARNABAS: (winsome intrigue) It is curious. Is that a date?

MAGGIE: It is, but not for that reason. They've planned it out a bit. And the intention is obvious. But that's not what you and I have, I think.

BARNABAS: Oh? Had I too abruptly asked you for a dance?

MAGGIE: Didn't seem like that at the time. I think what we have is a mystery, though. No one could _prove_, however, that we've been dating. You see?

BARNABAS: Ah! I see now. I understand your meaning.

MAGGIE: And out they go again… But yes, we're friends, with a mystery.

BARNABAS: Would you like to help me unravel that mystery?

MAGGIE: Time enough for that. For now, just keep me company. I want to stay a while before going home. I need to stay out of Pop's way while those two are over there.

BARNABAS: Do you have any idea what's happened to them? They certainly seem as much themselves as ever… alone.

MAGGIE: Yes, it's a bit, oh, a bit of the playfulness. He liked her years ago, and I suspect she was curious about him. Then, of course, everyone goes about graduating school and doing their own thing. So, I guess they have an old spark that finally lit. With that comes all those things they may have played with as kids, but perhaps with the thrill of making those adult decisions?

BARNABAS: Very intriguing. Complex, too. Would you say... they are… making up for lost time as well?

MAGGIE: Making up for lost time? Hmm, yes, I think I would.

BARNABAS: Then I understand entirely.

MAGGIE: Knowingly too, from the looks of it.

BARNABAS: You see through me almost completely, Maggie Evans.

MAGGIE: Do I? I guess it's a knack. I'm hardly trying.

BARNABAS: Keep it up.

[Music fades out.]

MILLIGAN: Somewhere on the road.

[Motor hums]

HOFFMAN: Professor, are you sure he knows we're coming to see him?

STOKES: Of course, I posted the letter three days ago. It shouldn't take any longer than that. Besides, you had to decipher his script to know he was eager to have a visitor.

HOFFMAN: Well, many of our patients are eager to have any visitor. I'm just not sure he understands why this is happening. It might upset his treatment.

STOKES: Doctor, it is part of Mr. Loomis' treatment, I think.

HOFFMAN: (wistful analysis) I'm still concerned about that one phrase. Couldn't figure out if it was a Q or an F.

STOKES: -which is precisely why we're doing all this. That man must learn penmanship.

HOFFMAN: But why penmanship?

STOKES: Well he's got to have something. Something that communicates.

HOFFMAN: What about, well, proper speech? Improve his vocabulary, that kind of thing.

STOKES: I'll approach that side of things, but in writing.

HOFFMAN: (pressing the issue) Yes, but don't you think you should help with his manner of speaking before calligraphy?

STOKES: It is my belief that to try and change that would be pushing him too far. The written word he's at least become curious about since he's had to perform more of it at Wyndcliff.

HOFFMAN: Still, I'm just suggesting… well..

STOKES: Doctor, and I do call you **Doctor** Hoffman, I am no Professor Higgins, but keep up this line of suggesting and I will be determined to call you _Colonel Pickering_.

HOFFMAN: (snickers) All right, all right… I must say I'm losing my touch if you could find that association before I did.

MILLIGAN: And our last stop of the night… The Collinsport Inn…

BLAIR: (irritable) How grievous an entrance. A room, a single room. And no Cassandra. This town was supposed to be easier. Beelzebub, what a crock and a half!

DEMONIC VOICE: We told you it wasn't going to be a skip across hot coals.

BLAIR: Oh, don't rub it in. No one to manipulate or insinuate secrets out of. These people are becoming almost blissful in their ignorance. Not only are they not trying to hide anything, but there doesn't seem to be a scrap of guilt or the gut-wrenching worry I expected.

DEMONIC VOICE: You still have to find Angelique. We don't want to lose her.

BLAIR: (sighs) Yes, yes… (grudgingly) I can but try.

[Neil Sedaka's "Little Devil" as outro theme]

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Hey, little devil_

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Hey, little devil_

_Hey, little devil, you're always running around (hey, little devil)_  
_It's time that someone started bringing you down (hey, little devil)_  
_There'll be (there'll be) some changes made_  
_Your roving days are through_  
_Hey, little devil, I'm gonna make an angel out of you_

_They say beware_  
_But I don't care_  
_I love you just the same_  
_You're an old heartbreaker and a mischief maker_  
_But I'm wise to your game_

_Whoa, whoa, whoa_

_Hey, little devil, everything is gonna be fine (hey, little devil)_  
_Cause someday soon I'm gonna make you all mine (hey, you little devil)_  
_There'll be (there'll be) no running around_  
_You met your Waterloo_  
_Hey, little devil, I'm gonna make an angel out of you_

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_Hey, little devil_  
_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_Hey, little devil_  
_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_Hey, little devil_  
_Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_Hey, little devil_

All Due Respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

Clue (1980's film)

Coronet (Instructional) Films

The Addam's Family (1960's TV Show)

The Ghost And Mrs. Muir (1960's TV Show)

Santo and Johnny Farina

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960's TV Show)

_*And yes... as I've just discovered... Pop was right. Upon getting distracted watching "Dark Shadows"... my siphon coffee maker just burst... *weep* :(_


End file.
